Alive and Impossible
by vesmolol - Vesa Hautaniemi
Summary: Life and death. PTSD and relief. Sacrifice. Love? What does a soldier go through when fighting the alien invaders and defending Earth? This is the story of the soldiers of XCOM in Beaglerush's Youtube let's play "Live and Impossible Season 2". If you are reading this and haven't seen the series, I highly encourage you to check it out.
1. Chapter 1: First contact

Chapter 1: First Contact

The air conditioning hummed deep, almost drowned out by the roaring of the jets outside. The six faces illuminated by the orange glow of halogen lights betrayed emotions ranging from focused and determined to worried and nervous. All of them understandable really; it's not every day you are one of the first responders to an alien threat on your home planet.

The briefing had been quick and to-the-point: stop the abduction of civilian targets undergoing at Nagoya, Japan. They were all prepared for these sorts of urban operations, most of XCOM personnel being former SWAT, military or various counter-terrorism units like GIGN or GSG 9. However, none had ever fought an enemy like this before.

* * *

"What the hell?"

The exclamation caused the commander to halt his briefing. The OP room was filled with murmurs by the six operatives seated around the table. Projected on the silver screen was an image of a small, gray humanoid creature with large, segmented eyes and no visible mouth.

"Would you mind, Private Medve?" The commander spoke in a cool tone, yet there was a clear line of amusement running below the surface. The large, broad-shouldered ex-SWAT, somewhat embarrassed by his sudden outburst, muttered an apology and seated himself back at the table.

Across from him, a lean woman with dark skin and cool, calculating eyes spoke up, "This thing can't be larger than a 10-year-old human. What's the catch, commander?"

"I was about to get to that, Private Foogleman." The commander clicked on his remote and the picture of the little gray changed to that of a human police officer leaning against a brick wall. The man was undoubtedly dead, with a massive hole where his left lung was supposed to be. The uniform around the wound was burnt, and the wall behind him had green scorch marks on it and a smear of blood running down to where the officer lay against the wall. There was another wave of whispers around the room, but this time they died out on their own without an intervention by the commander.

"We believe the enemy has access to weapons systems that far exceed our own. Our research and engineering are talking about potential plasma-based weaponry, but we will need to obtain actual evidence from the field ourselves to make more sense of this. Whatever the case may be, I don't want any of you to end up like this guy right here. Use extreme caution when engaging the enemy, you hear me?" The room responded with collective nods. "Now, let me wrap this up quickly, there's no time to waste. Further instructions en route and at the op zone."

* * *

The voice of the pilot over the intercom announced an ETA of 2 minutes until touchdown. Medve scanned the faces of his fellow operatives. Foogleman, the woman who seemed hard enough to take down any man or alien for that matter. Kamikaze, a German with dark hair and serious eyes whose face remained stoic and calm even under these circumstances. Atlanton, a young Aussie girl keeping her eyes shut and taking deep breaths. Orgun, an Irishman with freckles on his nose had his usual jolly demeanor replaced by a far-eyed stare. And lastly Drake, an Indian-American woman with caramel skin and dark hair, gently stroking the side of her assault rifle.

Drake caught Medve's look and smiled a little. Returning his gaze, she spoke good-naturedly, "You ready, big man?"

Medve took a deep breath and straightened his back. With a booming voice only slightly tinted by his Dutch origins, Medve took the attention of the operatives as the Skyranger began its descent:

"This is it, people! We are touching down in what is going to be the most important battle any of us have faced yet; hell, more important than any battle Man has fought before! Now I want this done by the book; no heroics, no turning back, no bullshit. Every man and woman stand together, and we'll all make it home in time for chow. Look alive soldiers!"

The response was immediate. The Skyranger was filled with confidence, operatives acknowledging and rogering the order, slapping the people next to them on the shoulder and picking up their gear right as the aircraft was touching down. Medve caught Foogleman staring at him, amused with a little smirk on her lips. _She making fun of me?_ An angry thought crossed the big man's head

The Skyranger came to a smooth landing, and everyone lifted the safety frames from their shoulders. Foogleman rose up next to Medve at the top of the ramp that would soon lower, signifying the beginning of the operation.

"Nice speech", Foogleman noted laconically. "These kids really needed the pick-up." Turning her head a little, she noticed Medve staring at her quizzically.

"That was a compliment, by the way", she informed him, slapping Medve on the back before chambering a round into her assault rifle just as the Skyranger ramp began to lower. Medve uttered a thank you, still somewhat puzzled by the mysterious woman next to him. But there were more important things to worry about right now.

"I hope you're ready for the welcoming committee E.T!" Orgun shouted from the back of the Skyranger just as the ramp crashed to the pavement at the car park of a pizza place somewhere near Nagoya. Medve raised his rifle and strode out of the Skyranger, Foogleman on his side and the rest of the operatives following suit.

* * *

Author's note: Welcome to reading Alive and Impossible, my first actual writing project. Unfortunately, this shows in some of the early writing and the format of the story. I grew a lot as a writer over the course of this massive undertaking and looking back, the early bits are not that well put together. There's a lot of things I would do differently now, but editing the format of the early story is just not realistic due to the length. If you find the writing to be lacking or grow tired of the filler chapters (which there are quite a lot of unfortunately) I recommend skipping over to Chapter 51: Heroes and reading from there on out. It's a lot more cohesive without any of the filler. To avoid missing any key plot points, I would also recommend checking out Chapters 10, 10.5, 13, 18, 20, 24, 28, 33 and 46. Whether you decide to skip forward, read the whole thing or just check out a couple of chapters, I hope you enjoy your time with Alive and Impossible!


	2. Chapter 2: Back on the force

Chapter 2: Back on the force

Foogleman strode down the darkening back alley of the annihilated police station. With marksman rifle slung over her shoulder, sawn-off shotgun hanging from her hip and dark ponytail tussled by the gentle Brazilian March wind, the scout looked like some exotic goddess of death. The headset lowered around her neck buzzed faintly as it transferred the post-op chatter between the commander and op leader Specialist Drake.

Coming to a halt at a junction between the back alley and the main street, Foogleman closed her eyes and took in a deep breath of air. It had been a successful operation, and as one of two specialists on the mission, she had played a vital role in guiding the first-timers through the rigors of combat against the alien invaders.

And she'd loved every minute of it.

Stepping out onto the main street, Foogleman laid eyes on the rest of the squad clustered around a busted up police car on the side of the road. Drake was some ten meters off to the side of the group, flicking through her notepad and immersed in the post-op briefing. The oriental assault seemed flushed and embarrassed. The hot topic of the conversation seemed to be the psychic assault Drake had undergone and how she'd panicked in the middle of the battle.

Foogleman strode over to Drake and caught her attention with a gentle hand placed on her shoulder, causing Drake to look up from her notes. "Op zone clear", came the brief report from the scout, lacking the usual edge Foogleman was known for around the barracks.

Drake responded with a nod and returned her attention to her notes and the chatter on her headset. Foogleman heard the voice of Central Officer Bradford come through on the line, locked in a heated argument with the commander. She rolled her eyes and turned down the volume of the headset hanging around her neck. Turning away from Drake, she strode over to where the rest of the squad were gathered around the police car.

Ballystix was sitting on the asphalt, leaning against the front bumper. He'd taken a nasty hit from a drone in first contact, but luckily the shot hadn't penetrated his kevlar. However, the impact had left a massive bruise on his chest and the Irishman was seriously out of breath after the intense firefight inside the police station.

Resting next to him was Merlin. The hot-headed Mexican lady had taken a hit from a drone as well, pulling most of the wind from her sails. Perched on the hood of the car was Frag, a former member of the Israeli counter-terrorism unit Yamam. He was cleaning his assault rifle while silently listening to the banter of the man inside the police car.

Awo took another drag from his cigarette. "It's just like being back on the force! And I don't mean just the milieu. Getting capped by some goddamn punk-ass fucktard." The Pole grimaced and took another drag from his smoke.

His left shoulder was a mess. The wound left by the mechanical flier had burned right through his armor and the Skyranger paramedics had been able to do only so much. In fact, Awo had gotten so tired of their fumbling around in his shoulder he'd chased them off back into the Skyranger.

Leaning back on the driver's seat, Awo turned his attention to the Israeli. "You gotta teach me how to take those fuckers out, Frag. That was some goddamn fine shooting out there! How the hell did you drop those things right off the air?"

Frag turned towards Awo and gave a little shrug. "Aimed for the blue sensors on the front", he noted laconically. There wasn't a hint of bragging in his voice, nor contempt for Awo. Just a simple, to-the-point observation.

Merlin let out a loud cackle as she quipped over her shoulder, "Well that fucking sucks for you, Awo. You're not a good enough shot to make that happen!"

The former police officer jerked forwards to shout at Merlin through the busted windshield, only to have his fuck-you interrupted by a sharp stab in his shoulder. Groaning, he fell back to the seat, sparking guffaws of laughter from everyone on the police car.

"You better watch it, big boy. Or do you want mama to call the pawamedics back?" This time Merlin's comment was followed by a roar of laughter from the operatives. She was being absolutely ruthless, and loved every minute of it.

"You better cut him some slack, girlfriend. It must've been tough." Awo gave the approaching Foogleman a grateful look. With an evil smirk on her lips, the scout continued, "I mean, as a Pole, he must be more used to repairing flying toilets than busting them up."

Awo let his head fall back against his seat as the operatives roared with laughter once again, Merlin doubling over with tears in her eyes. Ballystix glanced at her with concern and inquired, "You all right? That looks painful."

Merlin kept on laughing, holding onto the side that had taken the drone hit and between breaths for air and guffaws of laughter, she managed to whisper:

"Totally worth it."


	3. Chapter 3: Shipment canceled

Chapter 3: Shipment cancelled

"Flashbang out!"

Operative Kilroy's shout echoed through the ever-darkening dockside, followed by a bright flash of white light. The two sectoids shied away from the explosion, taking cover behind the small wooden boxes containing who knows what kind of cargo.

"Don't let up, advance!" shouted Frag, the man fresh out of infantry school and put straight in charge of his second operation.

Kneeling behind the concrete base of a dark lamp post with both eyes wide open, he shouldered his G36 and scanned the aliens holed up inside the warehouse. Two of them holding the front and disoriented from the flashbang, three further back partly concealed by the shadows of the large concrete pillars of the building. One of the sectoids poked its head out from behind the box it was using for cover, and Frag didn't hesitate. His rifle snapped on target and released a burst of high-caliber bullets, ripping a massive hole in the creature's bulging cranium.

Out of the corner of his eye, Frag saw Kamikaze press up against the front of the warehouse. Pulling the pin out of his HE grenade, the German tossed the explosive around the corner. The second sectoid's box went up in a shower of cheap knock-off sneakers. The G36 sang its merciless song, and the sectoid was filled with holes from its yellow belly to its head. Iku and Kilroy took full advantage of the opening their squad leader had created for them, moving up to cover closer to the warehouse.

A massive explosion erupted inside the building, and a forklift one of the sectoids was using for cover went up in flames. To add insult to injury, the forklift came down on top of the without-a-doubt already dead sectoid, sending a gush of yellow ichor spewing out of the creature's body.

"Whooooooo, the doc ain't gonna be happy with that one!" came the merry shout of the rocketeer Orgun from inside the warehouse.

Three down, two to go. Seeing their podmates go down in a swift display of ruthless breaching work, the remaining sectoids turned tail and ran. Frag took aim on one, but before he could pull the trigger, a fast-paced crackle of gunfire erupted from the MP7 Kilroy was holding. With a pitiful squeal, the sectoid fell down on its face, never to move again.

Frag turned his attention to the other fleeing alien, but just as he caught sight of it, the forklift exploded, sending a massive stream of sparks flying into the roof of the dark warehouse. The jet of fire concealed the fleeing sectoid and caused the shadows cast by the concrete pillars to dance eerily on the walls of the warehouse.

The voice of the commander came through on the line, relaying Frag new orders. Reloading his assault rifle, the infantryman spoke up, "All right, Orgun, you hold the warehouse. Everyone else, up to the roof using that drain pipe. Kilroy, me and Kamikaze first. Iku and Medve, you cover us. Go go go people!"

The night was still young, and there were still more sectoids to kill out there.


	4. Chapter 4: Midnight activity

Chapter 4: Midnight activity

The XCOM base was quiet, with most of the personnel having turned in for the night. Base security stood guard at their designated locations and patrolled down the corridors every once in a while, ever vigilant of any intruders alien or human. Down in engineering and research the lights were on and the pace never slowed down; the personnel were divided into multiple shifts to ensure the important projects would not halt to a stop.

On the upper levels of the base on an adjacent block to the barracks, the cafeteria was completely dark. No windows to let in moonlight, and the green lights signifying emergency exits provided no illumination beyond the small signs below. The main door swung open, letting in a sliver of light from the corridor as five dark figures strode into the cafeteria.

"Where the hell is the light switch at?" inquired a man with an Irish accent, fumbling at the wall next to the door.

"I don't think there is one. They switch the lights on from the main panel every morning. Hopefully engineering is gonna do something about it sometime soon", came the response from another man, this one standing in the middle of the room. His voice was contemplative and the tone in his words betrayed his Mexican origins.

Three of the figures had made their way straight over to the kitchenette part of the cafeteria, separated from the dining hall by a long counter containing heaters, ovens and all sorts of workspaces required to feed the personnel of XCOM. The wall opposite the counter was full of closets containing dry food stuffs ranging from canned beans to flour and pasta. Further down the row stood three massive refrigerators containing all of the fresh foods. The three shadows came to a stop at the first refrigerator.

"Come on, open it up. Open up, I said!" urged a woman in a heated tone, followed by a whispered cuss in German.

Fumbling on the fridge door was another woman, cursing as her hands slipped along the smooth surface, "I can't find the goddamn handle!" The third, considerably larger figure snorted both in amusement and contempt before reaching over and pulling open the fridge.

The lights from inside shone on Frag, Foogleman and Zim. Zim pushed past the stumped Foogleman and started scouring the inside, muttering excitedly in German. Foogleman was giving Frag a poisonous sideways stare.

"On the right? Are you kidding me, who the fuck builds a fridge that has a handle ON THE RIGHT?" Frag let out a small guttural laugh and joined Zim in her scavenging, ignoring Foogleman's complaints. The scout pursed her lips tightly together and joined her teammates in search of food.

Orgun leaned over the counter, the light illuminating his scruffy kevlar armor, straight from the field. "Man, we should've just grabbed something to eat from that Mighty Cart. We saved Chicago's ass from the aliens, you'd think that counts for something!"

Vherid joined him at the counter, giving the rocketeer an amused look, "Yeah, I'm sure they're real grateful for that HE blowing up half the store front. Or you busting up that car. Who knows, it could've been the owner's."

Frag leaned back from the fridge and noted over his shoulder, "Yeah, he does have a knack for blowing shit up. You should've seen his work at Fukuoka."

Orgun puffed his chest and lifted his chin proudly, summoning forth an exaggerated Irish accent, "I take great pride in me work, fellas. The Boom of the Irish they used to call me back in the army oh yes they did."

Frag and Vherid both let out a heartfelt laugh, while Foogleman shook her head, trying to keep the smile from her lips. Zim on the other hand seemed completely oblivious to the banter, her attention undividedly inside the fridge.

With a predatory glow in her eyes, the German moved the contents of the fridge around, scouring the depths for what she was looking for. Eyes locking on target, she left out a loud _aha!_ and pulled her haul from the back of the fridge. Arms full of sausages and a mustard bottle, she turned around and dumped her treasure on the counter. Without a moment's wait, she dug right in.

"Just sausages? Wow, she really IS German." Orgun noted laconically, reaching for one himself.

Frag and Foogleman turned back from the fridge and deposited their haul on the counter: a couple of milk cartons, some minced meat pastries, fresh tomatoes, hard boiled eggs, butter and a massive loaf of bread. Foogleman eyed the food on the counter with an approving look in her eyes.

"Well I reckon that should last us for a little while. Shall we?" She remarked, turning to the infantryman on her side. Frag returned her gaze with a smile and a nod, and they joined the rest of the squad in their midnight feast.

For a moment, the cafeteria was filled with nothing but the sounds of eating as the squad gobbled down as much food as fast as they could. Every now and then, an "ohgodsohgood" or a request to pass something over was heard, but there was no need for more words. After a frantic blitz of a few minutes, the pace started to slow down.

"Aaaaaaahhhhh!" came an exclamation of pure content and joy from Orgun as he leaned back from the counter, laying himself down on the floor and slinging an arm over his forehead. "I could just die right now. I don't wanna go by a sectoid's plasma pistol or getting drilled open by a goddamn drone, screaming and pissing myself in a pool of my own blood. Just kill me right now when I'm happy and content."

Vherid glanced down at him. "XCOM's finest everybody", he noted before returning his attention to the food.

Foogleman was bouncing a hard-boiled egg in her hand, staring off into the distance. "I should bring some over for Drake. It'd be a shame if all she got tonight was that horrid medbay sludge."

Frag looked up from the massive slice of bread he had stacked three sausages and a coating of hot mustard on. "That's a good idea", he replied, smiling ever-so-slightly.

Lying on the floor, Orgun crossed his arms behind his head and said, "What's this? The Ice Queen starting to melt for somebody?" Unabashed by the constant quips and jests of the boisterous rocketeer, Foogleman just shook her head and started gathering a portion for her friend.

Dropping the act and becoming serious for a moment, Orgun spoke up, "These injuries do suck. We've been getting a lot of them in these ops. It's just a matter of time before someone…" His voice trailed off, not wanting to make the dangers of the conflict real once again after such a good time.

"Until someone dies?" Foogleman finished off Orgun's trail of thought. Everyone around the counter looked a bit distraught at the scout's blunt words. Everyone except Frag, who had his trademark contemplative look on his face, betraying none of his emotions.

Foogleman continued, "Come on, we're all trained professionals here. Let's not forget what this is all about." The light from the refrigerator behind her cast sharp shadows on her dark-skinned face, making her features hard and cold. She closed her eyes and let out a small sigh, her expression softening.

"Sorry for the buzzkill. I'm gonna take these over to Drake and hit the sack. See ya." And with that, the scout strode off, the guys' eyes following her back out the door.

Zim, finally looking up from her sausages, mused, "Drake's gonna be fine though. What's the point worrying about tomorrow anyway? Today's the only day that matters. And it had sausages and dead aliens in it, which makes it pretty damn good in my book." The eccentric woman let out a small laugh and grabbed one last sausage with her as she strode towards the open door, waving goodbye over her shoulder.


	5. Chapter 5: Horizons

Chapter 5: Horizons

Kilroy stood at the doorway of the crashed UFO, leaning against its alien material and looking over the marchland as it slowly came to life at dawn's first light. The chirping of crickets and churning of frogs was slowly fading away, replaced by the song of sparrows.

Her first operation in charge of a squad had gone over way smoother than she'd expected. There had only been a single pod of drones guarding the crashed UFO, alongside what she assumed was the pilot of the alien craft.

Kilroy smiled at the memory of the breach. She had led the charge on the mysterious creature, only to have Scubaman snag the kill from her. She had a feeling the light-hearted jokester would go far with shooting skills like that. Turning away from the beautiful sunrise, she quietly observed the crew of operatives inside the UFO.

Scubaman stood over one of the busted flight computers, constantly trying to fiddle with the alien tech. Stoli, a total babe of a German was snapping at him, swatting his hand away from the precious tech.

Kilroy raised her voice, shouting over, "Come on Scuba, that's enough. Let the geeks down at research figure that stuff out." The Argentinian looked up from the computer with a frown, stumped like a little kid who got told they couldn't have any candy at the candy store.

Daishi, a tall blonde was sitting cross-legged on the platform that contained the power source of the UFO. She was a true Canadian through-and-through, always nice to everyone. She was immersed in a conversation with DSM sitting next to her. The South African woman, usually dark and gloomy, was gesturing wildly with her hands, eliciting a laugh out of Daishi every once in a while.

The last member of the squad stood outside the UFO, staring off into the sunrise. Renzol was a weird one. The small German with blonde hair and plain looks had displayed some real shooting work, dropping two drones with ease. She definitely didn't speak much, and her body seemed too frail for the rigors of combat.

Kilroy mulled her tongue around in her mouth. If she'd learned anything in her days with the FBI, it was that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover. However, Renzol looked like she could cry at the sight of the beautiful dawn, and Kilroy shook her head a little.

_She's too weak. She's not gonna last._ Her head filled with dark thoughts, Kilroy turned her attention back to the sunrise. This mission had been too easy. There had to be something dark brewing behind that beautiful, beautiful horizon.


	6. Chapter 6: Not dead yet

Chapter 6: Not dead yet

The backblast of the rocket launcher sent a gust of last autumn's dead leaves into the air from the cemetery ground. The look on Orgun's face was un-characteristic to say the least. Gone were the jolly and merry spirits, replaced with sheer determination. The rocket crashed into the crypt of some unfortunate Englishman, blowing the tomb and the two aliens behind it to kingdom come.

_Got ya you thin fucking freak!_ flashed across Orgun's mind, but to his mic he reported briefly, "Rocket impact confirmed, two X-rays down. Repeat, two X-rays down."

With the squad's left flank clear, Orgun glanced right from his position at the entrance of the cemetery. He just managed to catch Kilroy spray a sectoid's face full of buckshot from point-blank range as the assault moved in aggressively into the vanguard.

Foogleman was running hard along a row of tombstones, MP7 singing its deadly song and nailing a sectoid to the concrete wall surrounding the cemetery. The scout veered left, sliding behind a tombstone, only narrowly dodging the plasma barrage from a sectoid to the center of the cemetery. Crawling to a bomb node next to the tombstone, the scout produced a small nodular EMP device from her rigging and slapped it on the node. The humming from the alien device slowed down and stopped.

A loud bang resounded from Orgun's right and the sectoid hiding behind the bench winced, taking cover from any follow-ups to the high-caliber bullet. On the upper part of the cemetery perched behind a tombstone, Iku chambered another round into his sniper rifle. With the threat contained for now, Foogleman pounced to her feet and sprinted across the tiled walkway, taking cover behind a crypt, reunited with Kilroy at the spearhead of the assault.

Medve crashed to take cover behind a bomb node at the bottom of the stairs from the entrance. The large man was cussing out loud as he struggled to bring the heavy-duty Negev to bear on the enemy. Orgun looked up from the ex-SWAT and saw the sectoid had taken off from behind the bench.

"Oh shit!" the rocketeer exclaimed, fumbling around with his carbine as he tried to bring it on target in time.

Three precise gunshots echoed across the cemetery and the sectoid tumbled over a tombstone, lifeless as the person buried beneath it. Frag was standing behind a bench below Orgun, smoke rising from the barrel of his trusty G36.

"Keep up! Advance, there's no time to waste!" The voice of Frag ringing around the cemetery was commanding, it was soothing, it brought joy to a weary heart and confidence to a heart deprived of it. It was the voice of a true leader, urging them ever on through the battle. Everyone responded, with Foogleman sprinting to the left past the row of crypts towards a paved walkway, and Kilroy going for a bomb node next to the mausoleum dominating the center of the cemetery.

The battle had been hectic. Four sectoids, a drone and some alien that looked almost human had assaulted the squad right after they entered the cemetery. It seemed like the battle had lasted an eternity, while it had to have been over in no more than 10 seconds.

Orgun started towards one of the crypts, propping against the wall and signaling to Medve the coast was clear. The gunner hit the power node on the walkway and slapped an EMP on it, causing the green pulse to die down.

Orgun peered off into the foggy cemetery, scanning for any sign of further activity. The lights of the torches along the walkway barely gave any illumination in the rainy, foggy UK weather. Powerful halogen lights next to the mausoleum walls sent pillars of light into the sky, illuminating the gargoyles perched on the eaves of the building. From the fog came the familiar rattle of sectoids somewhere in the distance.

Feeling a chill go down his spine, Orgun muttered under his breath, "Jesus Christ and Mother Mary in heavens, this place gives me the creeps."

Starting towards the mausoleum, the rocketeer reunited with Frag. With rifles raised, both were scanning for activity in the fog, making their way to the steps of the mausoleum. Beyond the building, Foogleman was running into the fog on her own, defusing nodes on the other side. Meanwhile, Kilroy was holding the front of the building behind a statue of an angel, looking over the plasma bomb set up on the yard.

The squad moved up to the bomb, Foogleman joining them from the right while Medve and Iku were holding the left side farther back. Frag came to a halt at the bomb and spoke briefly into his headset before speaking up, "We still have time according to the head engineer. Clear that leftmost corner of the cemetery, you all heard the sectoids out there. I don't want any interruptions on this."

"Got it, I'm taking point", Foogleman responded eagerly before starting off into the fog, MP7 raised.

Orgun got in cover behind a tombstone and started prepping his rocket launcher. "Contact!" came the cry of Foogleman from the fog, and Orgun saw the scout for a brief moment as the muzzle flash from her SMG illuminated her outline.

Through his earpiece, Orgun heard the commander tell him to fire the remaining shredder rocket. Without hesitation, Orgun let fly. Foogleman would take cover in time, and the commander wouldn't risk the squad's safety haphazardly. The Irishman had full confidence in the brass of XCOM.

Through the fog came a monstrous sight. The sectoid, covered in horrific shrapnel wounds and bullet holes was charging straight for the bench where Orgun had seen Foogleman's outline at. A bullet whizzed past the creature as Iku failed to hit the mark. Orgun was helpless to do anything, dropping the rocket launcher and fumbling for his carbine once again.

A barrage of gunshots echoed through the cemetery and the sectoid dropped to the ground in a mangled heap. The look on Frag's face was nothing if not determined. Calm, cool and collected, he was The Man incarnate. Orgun stared at him in full adoration, barely noticing the suppressive gunfire Medve was spraying into the corner of the cemetery as Kilroy moved in to mop up the last remaining enemy.

"Everyone in position around the bomb. We don't know what's going to happen once we shut this thing down. There could be more enemies closing in on us as we speak. Move it up, people!" the commands rang true from the infantryman's mouth, and everyone acted without a moment's hesitation. Foogleman moved up to the bomb and consulted with chief-engineer Shen over her headset as the rest of the squad moved into position.

"Cutting the wires!" came the shout from Foogleman as she powered down the plasma bomb. Immediately horrifying, shrill screams echoed throughout the foggy cemetery. Then they came down.

Falling straight from the sky, silhouettes one might mistake for a human in the fog. But no human is capable of dropping down who knows how many meters these things dropped and surviving it with the bend of a knee.

Kilroy dropped the first one before it even hit the roof of the crypt it was landing on, spraying the thing full of buckshot. Orgun took aim on the one to his right. Seeing a sniper bullet punch right through the thing's chest, he sent a barrage of gunfire fizzing over the alien's head. But Frag didn't. The thin man was torn to pieces as another expertly aimed burst shredded its chest, the last bullet ending up squarely between its spectacled eyes.

On the left, the remaining thin man was about to open fire on Kilroy, but a massive, deafening spray of bullets hosed from Medve's Negev caused the alien to duck behind the tombstone it was hiding behind. Kilroy didn't waste any time. Springing into action, the assault wheeled around to flank the thin man. Medve, seeing Kilroy pounce on the thing, cut the suppressive fire and, for a moment, the cemetery was eerily quiet following the deafening bullet storm.

"GET BENT!" the shout from Kilroy broke the moment's silence, and a blast from her shotgun sent the thin man tumbling over the tombstone it had been hiding behind, laying the alien to its shallow grave.

Orgun jumped up and turned to Frag. Grabbing the squad leader into a bear-hug, the Irishman laughed out loud, shouting out his joy, "High speed low drag! Fucking max speed, no drag! Beautiful goddamn work my man!"

A little smile on his lips, Frag removed himself from Orgun's grasp and gave him a little pat on the shoulder. "Good work, Orgun. Foogle, Kilroy, Iku and Medve. Great work everyone. You are some fine operatives."

The praise that would've been so lame from someone else made everyone in the squad beam with pride. From the brilliant, reserved Frag, it was like getting told you are the best in the world.


	7. Chapter 7: Names

Chapter 7: Names

Frag and co were gathered on the bar counter in the operative's break room, surrounded by a crowd of people from the barracks. The XCOM operatives were eager to learn more about the intact UFO the squad had assaulted and recovered, and of the new species of aliens found aboard it.

Kilroy and Kungtotte did most of the talking, with Foogleman and Frag supplying their thoughts on the matter every once in a while. Medve was standing up straight, taking long, slow drags from his Cuban cigar, ever stoic and silent in the midst of the bustling crowd. Perched on a stool next to him was Cell, the South African newly promoted specialist gunner, sharing a drag or two from Medve's cigar every once in a while.

Behind the counter administering drinks to the thirsty and jests to everyone were Scubaman and Orgun. Orgun poured a tall cold one and slammed in in front of Frag. "So, Corporal Frag is it? You oughta get a nickname now Sir-over-general-officer-person", the Irishman mused while reaching for the empty pint the tall Daishi was offering him over the crowd.

Frag took a sip from his beer, mulling his tongue around in his mouth with a contemplative look. "You decide", came the laconic response from the charismatic infantryman.

Frag's response sparked a cry of dismay from Foogleman as she turned over to Frag with a desperate look on her face, "No! What have you done?"

Orgun's face lit up in joy as he handed Daishi her drink. Foogleman buried her face in her hands and sighed, "Christ, now you've done it. Why on Earth would you give THIS GUY any more power than he already has?"

"D.O.A. 'Cause when Frag is on the op, those fuckers are dead on arrival", Orgun claimed bombastically.

Frag responded with a lift of his eyebrow and tilt of his pint. "I like it", came the short and to-the-point answer from XCOM's number one, followed by another sip from his beer. The crowd around him cheered and started chanting Foogle's name over and over again.

Foogleman stared at Orgun from under her brow, expecting the worst. Orgun rubbed the stubble on his chin while staring contemplatively to the ceiling of the break room. Finally, he looked at Foogleman with a broad smile on his face and declared, "Lockdown. For her ability to lock down X-ray and man alike."

Foogleman burst into laughter and the crowd cheered wildly. Orgun poured another drink and slid it over to Atlanton who was sitting next to Renzol at the end of the counter.

And then it was just the last corporal left. The crowd started chanting Kilroy's name, and the assault straightened her back, puffing out her tank-top clad chest and flexing her biceps in an exaggerated display of strength. Drake, standing behind her, whistled and Foogleman cupped her hands around her mouth and let out a "You go girl!" over the crowd's chanting.

Scubaman strode next to Orgun behind the counter. The infantryman had a mischievous smile on his face as he leaned over and stole Orgun's thunder with a simple proclamation, "Sheriff!" This incited cheers and applause from the crowd, causing Kilroy to turn up her posing a notch.

Orgun turned over to Scuba, a look of dismay on his face after being stumped by the Latino. "Hey, you heard the man! That was my call!" exclaimed the rocketeer, feigning exaggerated offense at the smug Argentinian.

Scubaman crossed his arms over his chest and stated blatantly, "And I just made the call for you." Eyeing Orgun up and down, he added, "Beer-belly."

Orgun's jaw dropped, and he grabbed Scubaman by the shoulders. "I'm NOT fat!"

Using the advantage of initiative, the rocketeer turned the infantryman over and tried to pin him to the counter. Scubaman responded in kind, and soon they were positively wrestling behind the counter, spouting insults at each other while the crowd cheered them on. The duo passed by close to the liquor cabinet on the wall and sent a bourbon bottle spinning wildly, just a whisker away from falling off.

"Hallo, hallo, hallo! Watch the liquor you dumb oafs!" came the frantic shout of Zim from the crowd and suddenly the good-natured scuffle of the duo was identified as a real danger by the rest of the XCOM personnel.

Foogleman, Kilroy and Kungtotte all reached over the counter and grabbed the two jokesters by their shirts, trying to separate them. Not getting a good hold of them, the duo spun away, this time sending a tequila bottle spinning around and around, falling off the shelf.

Daishi dashed forward from the crowd. Leaning over the counter, her body at almost 180 degrees, she grabbed the bottle as it fell. Slinging herself backwards from the counter she came to her feet, holding the bottle triumphantly up in the air, laughing and eliciting cheers from the people around her.

Medve let out a deep sigh, handing his cigar over to Cell and clambering over the counter. Grabbing Scubaman by the waist, he separated the two troublemakers with one strong jerk, tossing the Latino un-ceremoniously to the ground.

Seeing the approaching massive Dutchman, Orgun put his hands up in front of him and started, "Man, it was him. You saw it, he started-"

Medve grabbed Orgun by the waist mid-sentence and flung him to the ground, the rocketeer letting out a most un-manly scream as he flew through the air. With the situation dealt with, Medve dusted his hands off and took back his cigar that Cell was offering him.

Loud cheers erupted from the crowd, and Foogleman offered her fist up to Medve. The big man smiled, and the gunner's and scout's knuckles bumped together. Behind the counter, Orgun and Scubaman were getting up, both rubbing the back of their head in embarrassment, glancing over at one another with a mischievous glare in their eyes.

Medve hadn't stopped anything. It was just starting.


	8. Chapter 8: The Wager

Chapter 8: The Wager

A loud banging filled the sports hall as the assault and scout were locked in a battle of wills. Drake dashed to her left, swinging her racket wildly and sending the squash ball speeding towards the wall. Foogleman replied with ease, returning Drake's furious strike with an almost elegant touch.

Sweat was dripping down the caramel-skinned assault's brow. Tank top glued to her back and chin-length hair coming loose and sticking to her face, Drake struggled on. She had no time to pay any attention to the scout on her right, every return strike becoming harder than the last one. Putting all of her strength to a last-ditch effort, Drake visualized the floaters she had destroyed on her last mission. With a loud groan, she struck the ball as hard as she could, right in the floater's face. Tumbling over from the momentum of her blow, the assault watched on helplessly as Foogleman returned the strike, unable to answer the scout's game.

Panting with some pace, Foogleman made her way over to Drake. Standing astride over the assault, Foogleman quipped, "What, you done already Drake? I was expecting more from you."

Rolling over to her back, Drake lifter her hands over her head, admitting defeat, "You win. Holy hell you are one tough nut to crack." Laughing wholeheartedly, Foogleman offered her hands and helped Drake to her feet.

It had all started with (yet another) ill-advised maneuver by Orgun. The rocketeer had challenged Foogleman to a game of squash for twenty bucks. Foogleman hadn't had any problems with Orgun, quite literally busting his balls due to an unfortunate (or deliberate?) bounce of the ball. Scubaman had been eager to pick up the challenge, doubling the bet with a winner-takes-all principle.

Drake had been the fifth challenger. She had thought she was at least decent at squash, but the elusive scout had shown her how things really were. Or who knows, maybe Scuba and Orgun were right, both convinced Foogleman had been a professional squash player before joining XCOM. After all, no one knew what the scout had been doing before joining the outfit. Though Drake had her doubts about squash players being recruited to be Earth's last line of defense.

Foogleman picked up her towel from the side of the pitch, wiping sweat from her brow and neck while Drake made her way over to her own gear, taking a long drag of water from her bottle. The scout spoke up from the other side of the pitch, "Who was it next? I've lost count of all the people who want to get their asses kicked by me."

Drake snapped the water bottle close and slung her towel over her shoulder. "I believe it was Daishi", the assault responded.

"Canuck v Canuck, eh?" Foogleman mused. "She's not gonna get a single point with those lanky legs of hers."

Drake glanced at the scout, amused. "You're gonna lose sooner or later. I'd watch that mouth of yours."

Foogleman threw back her head, let out a sharp laugh and replied, brimming with confidence "You know me, Drake. The higher the stakes, the better the game. No matter the field we're in."

"Whatever you say. I'm gonna hit the showers." With a small smile on her lips and a shake of her head, Drake waved the scout goodbye. Foogleman turned over to the wall, serving herself and the repeated bangs of the squash ball accompanied Drake out of the hall.

Making her way over to the locker room, Drake headed for her own spot at the end of the row, between Foogleman's and Kilroy's. Peeling the drenched tank top and sweat pants from her tired body, she let out a groan. Balling the clothes up, she tossed them into the back of the locker and took out a fresh towel from its hook. The operation combined with the intense game with Foogleman had taken its toll.

Drake walked through the shower room doors, and noted the room was thankfully empty. Not that she had a problem with her own nudity, but she just didn't want to have to deal with anyone right now. Hanging her towel from a hook, she took the nearest shower and turned the faucet. Cold water streamed over her, eliciting a small shout from the assault's lips, every muscle in her body tensing up.

Standing just like that for a minute, Drake felt her body loosen up. Turning the water to warm, she reached for the shampoo on the rack next to her. Scrubbing her lean and toned body clean, she started to feel more like her usual self. Lingering for some minutes longer, enjoying the feeling of the rummaging water on her skin, Drake turned her thoughts to the afternoon's operation.

It had been a small crashed scout over in China. She had led a group of green operatives, with the one-day veterans Awo and Cell accompanying her. No casualties this time. It was definitely an improvement over Brazil's police station and the Mighty Cart episode.

Absentmindedly, Drake rubbed at the scarred tissue of her right shoulder. The plasma burn had healed completely, leaving her right arm completely functional. Her thoughts turned back to her squad. It had been the first trial-by-fire for Toothcake, Hypergeek and Volatile. She really should join the squad at the break room for post-op drinks. Not to mention she was yet to meet the three new recruits: Ratamacue, Wolfer and Instinct.

Turning off the shower, Drake reached for her towel and headed back towards the locker room.


	9. Chapter 9: Highway to Hell

Chapter 9: Highway to Hell

Moonlight shone on the busted Brazilian highway. Cars abandoned by their owners as the alien abduction had hit littered the bridge. An overturned truck had spilled its cargo of wooden boxes over the road. Some of the boxes had cracked, releasing piles of broken ceramics onto the asphalt. Daishi moved through the devastation with shotgun held at the ready, eyes peeled for alien activity. Behind her Kungtotte and Iku, the squad's snipers, were setting up their rifles on the overturned truck.

"Hey look, it's another canister of MELD!" Orgun noted excitedly, moving up the highway towards the pulsating orange canister in the middle of the road, some ways forward from their current position.

Daishi had a bad feeling about this. Double checking the LZ, all she could see was abandoned cars. As Orgun reached the MELD canister, Daishi saw movement from the corner of her eye.

"TAKE COVER!" the scout shouted and dashed towards the pick-up truck at the squad's back. The tarp covering the bed of the truck flew into the sky as three floaters emerged from below it.

Daishi slid towards the half-crumbled concrete wall dividing the two sides of the highway, pulling a flashbang from her rigging and tossing it towards the pick-up truck. The floaters were caught in the brilliant flash, the disorientation giving her squad time to react. The aliens' muffled groans of anger chilled Daishi all the way down to her bones. She'd heard about these things, but actually seeing the grotesque amalgam of flesh and metal move about under the moonlight was truly something out of a nightmare.

A rain of gunfire was unleashed on the floaters from behind the scout as Merlin opened fire. Dual sniper shots rang in the night and one of the floaters fell from the sky. Next to Daishi, Kamikaze hit the same concrete wall and dropped his Negev LMG, reaching for the AP grenade hanging from his belt. Just as he threw the grenade, one of the floaters ducked into cover behind the truck, hiding from the explosion. The other one, unabashed by the fierce assault it was under, fired wildly at Kamikaze. A barrage of plasma whizzed past the German's head, leaving scorch marks in his helmet as he ducked for cover.

Daishi heard a desperate cry from up the highway and looking up, she saw Orgun at the MELD canister, covered in green acid and desperately aiming his rocket launcher towards the squad. From farther up the darkened bridge, she could see the faint silhouettes of two thin men behind a taxi, illuminated by the plasma fire they were unleashing upon the rocketeer.

"You take the close one!" Daishi shouted at Kamikaze and vaulted over the low concrete wall.

The floater close to them had taken off into the sky, well out of range of her shotgun, and it had the best pickings of the highway on which XCOM operative to shoot in the back. Hitting the end of the truck, Daishi stepped out and saw the floater behind the truck taking aim on Orgun. Firing her shotgun, Daishi prayed for the safety of the rocketeer under such a merciless assault.

The load of buckshot rattled the floater, throwing its aim off and sending the barrage of plasma whizzing just past Orgun's head. Releasing a muffled cry of agony, the floater took off at incredible speed, the jets that emerged perversely straight from its body spewing smoke and fire as it flew towards the edge of the bridge, trying to get away. A sniper bullet punched through the creature, sending it over the edge and tumbling into the highway below in a mess of blood and wires.

Then the explosion shook Daishi, closing the sounds of the world from her, replaced by loud, incessant ringing.

* * *

Orgun couldn't believe the order he had just received through his headset. The rocketeer had his back to the MELD canister, plasma flying past him in an unceasing barrage of high energy, causing the hairs at the nape of his neck to stand up. He felt like he was choking; every breath he took pulled in more and more of the green, acidic substance floating in the air.

"Can you repeat that, sir?" Orgun managed to whisper into his headset before breaking into a series of rasping coughs, talking becoming more and more difficult by the moment.

The commander repeated his order, and the Irishman reached for his rocket launcher. Shouldering the weapon, he took aim at his own squad. He could barely see in the dark night, the acid getting into his eyes, stinging and burning with the power of a million suns during the worst hangover of his life. Having identified what he assumed was the floater, swooping down from the sky towards the squad, Orgun pulled the trigger.

The blast from the rocket threw the launcher off Orgun's shoulder. Pain shot through his mind as every muscle in his body was on fire at once. "No, no, no NO NO NO NO!" the rocketeer started to shout, words dissolving away as he screamed in agony and panic as the acid ate away at his body.

Orgun jumped up, turning towards something, ANYTHING that was out of this horrific cloud. Taking a running step caused his legs to explode from under him, sending him crashing to the ground. He didn't even feel the stream of plasma glancing his left arm, burning away at his muscle and skin. Crawling forwards, the rocketeer hit his head on something. The jolt was non-existent. He was on fire, riding the lightning, kicking the bucket, dying. Curling up against the back of the police car, Orgun rocked himself back and forth.

_No no no please not like this. Please God don't let me go like this. Let me go back to that night at the cafeteria._ He didn't know whether he was crying or not. He couldn't feel the tears even if they had come, everything was just burning, burning, burning.

Through the unceasing gunfire, Orgun heard a voice ring clear in the night.

"Hey, hosers! Come and get some of this!"

* * *

With ringing in her ears, Daishi turned back towards her squad. Kamikaze was standing in the middle of the highway, staring at the helmet in his hand. A massive piece of shrapnel stuck out from the kevlar, and the look in the German's eyes was distant and contemplative, almost funny in the hell of a situation they were in. Kamikaze looked up from the helmet and smiled at Daishi.

A blast of plasma hit the gunner in the back, dropping him like a fly. Daishi screamed out his name, one arm stretched towards the good-hearted man. Past the falling Kamikaze, Merlin and Kungtotte were staring at the sight with horror in their eyes, hunkering behind cars from the relentless assault of the thin men. Clenching her teeth together, Daishi spun around and sprinted down the side of the pickup truck.

The tall woman legged it as fast as she could, head down and zig-zagging between the abandoned cars. Plasma flew all around her, the fighter in her refusing to give up. Diving down on the asphalt, she took cover behind an old Prius. Looking up, she could see the thin men close in on Orgun. The rocketeer was a sorry sight, with streams of blood running down from his eyes, huddled at the back bumper of the police car, rocking himself back and forth.

A thin man was approaching the man from either side, one of them hidden from everyone else in the squad behind a large wagon, but deliciously exposed to Daishi. On the other side further away from her, the second thin man was mere meters away from Orgun, taking cover on the opposite end of the cop car from the rocketeer, ready to move in for the kill.

Daishi stood up from behind the Prius, shouldering her shotgun and drawing in a deep breath of air, shouting into the night, "Hey, hosers! Come and get some of this!"

The thin man close to her snapped his neck around and saw the scout threatening its flank. In an acrobatic fashion, the alien turned around and started running back. As much as Daishi wanted to nail the bastard right there, she had more important things to do. Standing right out of cover, she released a hopeful shot at the thin man threatening Orgun. The alien responded in kind, the salvo from its plasma carbine striking Daishi in her side. Grunting, the Canadian ducked behind the Prius.

A duo of loud gunshots echoed in the night, and the thin man hissed angrily, pulling back into cover behind the car. Daishi didn't hesitate as she sprang up from behind the Prius, holding her left side as she ran forwards. On her left, she saw Merlin kneeling behind the open door of an old Toyota. The infantrywoman dropped her G36 and pulled out her pistol, face twisted into a grimace as she tried to contain the alien behind the cop car.

"I got it!" shouted Daishi, taking cover behind the other door of the car.

Starting the suppression duty, she hoped against hope she might hit the already winged thin man. Merlin took full advantage of the opportunity given to her and pulled a smoke grenade from her rigging, sending the cloud over to the pitiful Orgun, still threatened by the thin man on the same car, and constantly under plasma fire from the thin man holding the taxi farther out.

* * *

The burning had subsided a little. The world-ending agony had died down to a desperation-inducing throb when he had stopped moving. Orgun looked back at his squad with dead eyes. He saw Daishi and Merlin desperately fighting against the odds behind a blue car. Kungtotte had moved closer too, sniper rifle readied, covering for him.

_I'm sorry everyone. You shouldn't have to do all this for me._ Further back, Iku was kneeling next to poor Kamikaze, slamming what the rocketeer assumed was an epinephrine needle into the gunner's chest. _Sorry Kamikaze. That one was on me._

Orgun's headset buzzed and crackled through the acid, and by some miracle, the voice of the commander came through on the line, "_Orgun, listen to me. Merlin is going to throw you smoke for cover, and I'm going to need you to get up and kill that thin man at the end of the cop car. You hear me? I need you to do this for me."_

Dread filled Orgun's mind. He could feel the panic rising as the thought of moving again chased itself around and around in his head, rising, rising. His carbine was still with him, hanging from its sling around his neck. _They're risking everything for me. I need to do this._ Wheeling around and shouldering his carbine, Orgun turned back into the fight.

There was nothing he could do to control the recoil. As soon as he pulled the trigger, the shot was lost. Spraying a wild burst up into the night sky, Orgun screamed out loud as the burning returned.

_You fucker! You lied to me, you did this, you fucking made me do this!_ Tearing the headset from his ears, Orgun cowered behind the car, as still as possible. Not hiding from the thin men, but hiding from the burning, oh the endless burning.

* * *

Daishi looked on with a heavy heart as their trump card failed. Orgun was screaming behind his car, lost to the fight once more. Furiously chambering more shots into her shotgun, Daishi looked on helplessly as the thin man moved away from the cop car, Merlin sending a hail of pistol fire towards the alien.

"HIT YOU SON OF A BITCH!" the infantrywoman screamed out in frustration as the alien moved about on the moonlit highway, almost mocking them.

Realizing what the thin man was doing, Daishi felt her heart skip a beat. "Kungtotte! Look out!" the scout cried into the night.

Hearing Daishi's cry, Kungtotte lowered his sniper rifle and dashed forwards, ducking under jet of plasma. Throwing his rifle to his left hand and pulling his pistol from its holster with his right, Kungtotte stood up, took aim and released a single shot. The thin man's head exploded in a cloud of acid, splattering a nearby car in gore.

_YES! We can do this,_ rang the thought in Daishi's head. "Cover me!" she shouted at Merlin as she took off once again.

Pulling her pistol as she ran, she saw the taxi thin man take off into the night, moving closer to Orgun. Firing her pistol on the run, Daishi forced the alien to take cover behind a car. Moving past Orgun, the scout dropped her pistol and shouldered her shotgun.

A barrage of gunfire from Merlin kept the thin man hiding behind the car, and a sniper bullet punched through the framing, drawing a furious scream from the creature. Another sniper bullet whizzed past Daishi, and she could hear Kungtotte's battle cry as the thin man who had fled from her earlier left the battle for good.

Now walking, Daishi kept on approaching the car under the moonlit sky. Any moment now. The thin man poked its head out. Daishi pulled the trigger. And the creature's head went up in a spray of bone, acid and neatly combed hair.

* * *

"Will he be okay?" Daishi asked Iku, the battle having died down for now.

Kamikaze lay down on the hard asphalt, breathing ever so faintly, but still breathing. The sniper looked up from the stabilized operative with a worried look. "I'm no medic, but I think so. However, we should finish up the operation ASAP. We need to have the area clear for the Skyranger to land and bring the paramedics."

Orgun sat on the asphalt, propped up against the concrete wall next to Kamikaze. It had taken Daishi and Kungtotte some real effort to help the rocketeer back to the LZ from the cop car. Every step had seemed painful, and the man was a shadow of his usual self.

Merlin strode up to them with Kungtotte having replaced her as a lookout further up the highway. Glancing at Orgun, the temperamental woman stated, "You can't carry on, right? In that case, I'm taking leadership of this operation."

Orgun nodded his approval, and Merlin turned to Iku and Daishi. "Okay, let's get the two of them to a safer location on this side. The commander relayed me new orders, and we're going to make this work." Daishi let out a small sigh. It had been a long and hard night, but there didn't seem to be an end in sight.


	10. Chapter 10: Dead on Arrival

Chapter 10: Dead on Arrival

Orgun stared absentmindedly at the spring's first flowers. The dandelions were sitting in a vase on the desk next to the rocketeer's bed in the medbay, courtesy of Daishi. Orgun appreciated the pure gesture of friendship, but it couldn't wash away the shame he felt after their last operation. Letting out a deep sigh, the blues-ridden man turned his thoughts to the news they'd received this morning.

An XCOM satellite dispatched over India had caught wind of an alien ship flying in low, clearly trying to avoid detection. The ship, way larger than anything they had previously observed, had landed in the mountains not two hours ago and an emergency response team had been announced. Orgun glanced at the clock hanging above the entrance to the medbay. The ETA was fast approaching, and he wondered whether Frag could make it after all.

As if hearing his thoughts, the door slid open and Frag stepped into the room, decked out in full combat gear, only missing his weapons. Orgun lifted his hand in greeting, and the stoic infantryman made his way over to his bedside.

"How are you?" inquired Frag as he came to a stop at his friend's side.

"Apart from throwing up my organs and the last shreds of my dignity every once in a while? Pretty good", came the attempt at his usual humor from Orgun, but lacking that merry edge. Instead, he only sounded depressing.

Frag nodded quietly. "You wanted to see me before I left?"

Pushing himself forwards from the pillows he was resting against, Orgun straightened his back. With a solemn face, he beckoned Frag closer, putting one hand on his friend's shoulder. "Promise me you'll bring them back safely. I learned everything I needed to about my own leadership qualities in Brazil but you, you are something else. I know you can do this. Bring them all safely home, you hear me?" Orgun's voice was steady, every shred of pretense gone from his face.

Meeting the rocketeer's eyes, Frag placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I promise."

And with that, Frag turned away, striding out of the medbay, never looking back. Orgun's eyes followed him out the door before turning back to the flowers on his bedside.

He had no idea it was the last time he would see his friend alive.

* * *

The Skyranger bumped up and down heavily as it flew in low across the mountains. The operatives inside held onto the safety frames shackling them into their seats in the rough ride. The dim lights flickered every once in a while, illuminating six beret-clad heads.

Foogleman was determination incarnate, with no other emotions on her face, eyes locked onto a single point on the opposite wall. Drake's shoulders were heaving as she took in quick breaths, releasing them in sharp puffs, psyching herself up for the coming battle. Volatile was staring at the sunglasses in her hands, focused. The black skin of her veritable bull's neck glistened with sweat and her buzz cut hair glowed faintly in the light.

On the other side, Medve was staring into the roof of the transport, taking long drags from his cigar and holding onto his safety frame with one hand. Next to him, Renzol gripped her frame with both hands, knuckles turning white under her gloves. Her breathing was abrupt as she kept her eyes closed.

A hand landed on the small rocketeer's shoulder. Looking up with distraught eyes, she saw the gently smiling face of Frag, full of confidence. The squad leader gave her shoulder a small pat, and Renzol's breathing steadied. Nodding at the man, she turned her gaze to the floor of the Skyranger.

"Brace for landing", came the voice of the pilot through the buzzing and rattling intercom, and the operatives spread their legs and steadied their hold on the safety framing. The aircraft creaked and vibrated as the thrusters brought it ever closer to solid ground. With a flex of its suspension, the Skyranger came to a smooth landing.

Jerking the safety frames off their lockdown, the operatives swung them off of their shoulders. Standing up from their seats, everyone reached for the weapon racks on the walls. With four shotguns on the squad, they definitely wouldn't lack any killing power in what preliminary scans showed to be a close-quarters ship.

Turning to his squad with a determined look, Frag spoke up, "You all know the mission briefing by now. Just follow my lead, and we will all make it out of here." And with that, Frag pulled a pair of sunglasses from his jacket's pocket.

The squad grinned at him and everyone summoned forth a pair of their own. Taking one last look at everyone's faces, Frag slipped on his sunglasses, everyone in the squad following suit. The Skyranger ramp lowered, and the operatives turned towards the outside world.

"Let's do this", the squad leader proclaimed and strode out into the bright daylight, his band of heroes following in a tight formation behind him.

* * *

The squad was pinned inside the cockpit of the troop ship, holding off the massive force of aliens. The assault had turned on its head as five of the incredibly dangerous outsiders had showed up. Now the assaulters had become the assaulted.

The outsiders kept on charging the position desperately held by XCOM, any damage dealt seeming futile as the creatures kept falling back, the crystalline composition of their bodies regenerating the damage dealt. Seekers, mechanical horrors capable of flying and concealing themselves from the naked eye circled the cockpit, looking to latch onto any stragglers in the squad.

"There's no end to this!" shouted Foogleman, sitting outside behind the cockpit with her back to the wall. The scout peeked around the corner, immediately pulling back from the plasma fire.

Renzol was on the opposite corner, watching the squad's right flank. She was out of rockets with only her carbine left, and the weapon was ill-suited for the heavy firefight to say the least. On the doorway between them, Medve was spraying covering fire through the cockpit into the various doorways swarming with enemies. The rest of the squad was inside the room, hunkering behind flight computers and answering enemy fire as best they could, the green power source in the middle of the room casting eerie shapes on the walls.

Volatile was sitting down, propped up against a flight computer on the wall from where the enemy assault was coming from. She was firing her shotgun wildly at the seekers squirming in through the doorways.

Drake stepped out of the main doorway into the plasma fire, blasting the monstrously large outsider trying to make its way in with her shotgun, causing the creature to reconsider its approach. Pulling back inside, a seeker materialized from thin air in front of her, grabbing her with its tentacles. One tendril closed around the assault's throat, leaving her desperately gasping for air. The mechanical creature jerked her towards the doorway, trying to pull her into enemy fire and certain death.

A hail of buckshot struck the creature, and the tendril around Drake's right arm loosened. Her face twisting into a determined grimace, Drake turned her shotgun upwards and blasted the thing's circuits right out of its squid-shaped body. Left hand going to her throat, the assault clambered over a flight computer, taking cover behind it.

"We need to get the hell out of here! Come on, fall back. We'll draw 'em in!" came a shout from Frag as he dropped yet another seeker.

Drake struggled for air, and feeling her windpipe open up, she crawled her way over to Volatile. "Come on, let's go!" the assault urged, leaving her shotgun hanging by its sling and throwing Volatile's arm over her shoulder.

Helping the badly injured trooper up, they started to move through the cockpit, plasma flying through the doorways as their squad struggled to contain the enemy. Frag was crouched behind the furthermost flight computer, brow furrowed in deep concentration above the sunglasses as he kept firing his shotgun at the enemy.

Breaking away from the room, bright daylight swarmed the duo of female troopers. Laying Volatile down against the wall, Drake wiped her brow. Medve pulled back from the doorway, taking out his medkit and tending to Volatile. Frag followed the squad back out of the cockpit, ducking under a hail of plasma from an outsider's carbine.

"Drake! Get over here! We are doing this right now!" came the shout from Foogleman. Not wasting any time, Drake dashed over to the corner where the scout was at.

"I distract them, you go in for the kill. BREAK!"

Jumping out into the fray, the dauntless scout dodged a plasma barrage, then another. Taking cover behind a low ridge emanating from the surface of the bizarre ship, the scout fired her shotgun. Drake turned the corner, going in hard. What she saw was a terrifying sight. Two outsiders were firing their plasma carbines at the scout from the other end of the small building that served as the cockpit of the ship. And right next to her, she saw the huge outsider. The thing stood taller than Medve, and radiated pure energy.

Screaming wildly, Drake charged the enemy leader. A hail of buckshot hit the thing where a human's stomach would be, causing the crystal inside to vibrate as the thing doubled over. Drake pumped her shotgun. The creature looked up, lifting its plasma rifle towards Drake.

Using her shotgun as a baton, Drake slammed on the outsider's weapon, causing the plasma barrage to strike the ground below them. Giving the creature another violent strike with the butt of her weapon, she crashed the alien against the wall. Drake didn't have time to think about the other outsiders. All she could do was trust in Foogleman.

In a display of sheer strength and willpower, the assault brought her leg in hard, sweeping the outsider's legs from under it, crashing it to the ground and pinning it against the wall. Drake brought her shotgun around. From point-blank range, she crammed the muzzle of the gun into the creature's head and pulled the trigger. A massive spray of dust erupted around her as the alien was finally defeated. Covering her eyes from the cloud, Drake stumbled backwards, wheeling around the corner. Without a moment's delay, Foogleman was next to her, tumbling acrobatically across the gap between the ridge and the wall.

On the middle door, Medve was stuck in a firefight with two sectoids that had pushed up into the cockpit. "More coming down that side!" came a shout from the big gunner.

Lifting her sunglasses and wiping the dust from her eyes, Drake watched as Frag ran past her to take the corner, Foogleman dashing out into the fray once more. The duo fired their shotguns in unison, and another outsider fell. Cheating death yet again, the scout dashed through flying plasma in her trademark fashion, hitting the wall next to Drake.

Foogleman panted hard, lifting her sunglasses and looking at Drake. Her face was lit up, with sweat running down her brow, mouth frozen into a perpetual grin, eyes on fire. She gave a little laugh and shouted, "We're going to do this! We're gonna fucking DO THIS!"

Dropping her sunglasses back on her nose, Foogleman pounced onto the doorway to help Medve with the sectoids. Firing her shotgun, the scout shouted wildly as one of the grays behind the flight computer dropped into the ground. Sprinting across the doorway, Drake joined the fight as Medve vacated his spot to reload. She fired away, and another sectoid fell, the assault joining her friend in a wild battle cry as only one outsider remained. Drake looked up towards Frag, ready to shout for covering fire as she got ready to move in through the cockpit.

Then the world stopped. A hail of green energy blasted from behind the corner, sending Frag flying through the air. From behind her sunglasses, Drake saw the world tinted a brownish hue. A stream of dark droplets glistened in the sunlight, suspended in the air. Almost elegantly, Frag's body turned around in the air, the sunglasses coming off and the stream of mysterious glowing droplets, almost like dark pearls, extended along with his flight.

His face coming to view now, Drake was expecting the confident, charismatic man to smile and tell her a job well done. Instead, she was greeted by a torn artery in his neck, sending a stream of dark pearls into the afternoon air. With widening eyes, Drake followed her friend's flight to the ground.

"…no…" came the weak denial from the assault's lips.

Looking up, she saw Foogleman running towards Frag, rounding the corner. From behind her, she felt a push as she was sent stumbling across the doorway, followed by the loud chatter of Medve's machine gun. Walking towards Frag, Drake couldn't take her eyes off the sight. He wasn't dead, he couldn't be dead. This was Frag after all, the most dependable man she had ever known. Falling to her knees, she reached over and touched the horrific wound in his neck.

"Blood", Drake whispered. "It was blood."


	11. Chapter 10 and a half: Aftermath

Chapter 10 1/2: Aftermath

The door to the doctor's office slammed shut and Drake leaned backwards, resting her head against the cold metal. _You've gotta be kidding me_, the assault thought to herself, the news she'd gotten just moments prior slowly sinking in.

Tightening the grip on her crutches, she could feel a lump of frustration forming at the back of her throat. Just thinking about her injury made her think back to the operation, which in turn made her think of Frag, lying on the cold metal, staining the alien ship red with his life's blood. Drake squeezed her eyes shut, willing the tears away.

_Don't cry, don't you fucking dare cry you loser_. Yelling out in frustration, she slammed the crutches against the door, eliciting a cry of surprise from inside. Avoiding putting weight on her left leg, the assault hobbled out of the medbay.

Kilroy was leaning against the corridor wall, pushing herself up when Drake came through the door. "What did he say?" inquired the brunette assault from her roommate.

Drake came to a stop, staring at the floor of the corridor, shaking her head. "Up to a month. Can you believe this shit? I was just fine!"

The wound she had taken during the battle at the alien troop ship had seemed harmless, a plasma burn on her left thigh. The pain killers and medicinal foam they'd applied on the wound as first aid had let her finish the mission without any problems. It was the movement after the administered first aid that had torn the muscle open and harmed the ligaments in her knee. Without the advanced medical facilities and intensive gene therapy XCOM had access to, the injury would have taken up to a year to heal, maybe even longer. But with six weeks into the conflict against the alien invaders, being sidelined for a month seemed like a lifetime for Drake.

Kilroy placed a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Damn, that's rough. I guess I'll have my work cut out for me without you out there, sergeant."

Drake looked up at Kilroy's face. They'd become good friends over the past six weeks, coming through the assault training program together and sharing a room along with Foogleman, Awo, Kungtotte and Merlin. Despite both being multi-op veterans, they were yet to serve on a mission together.

"You better not get yourself killed while I'm out of rotation. I still have my ambition of shooting up sectoids alongside you", the incapacitated assault said, the company of her friend lightening up her mood a bit.

Kilroy smiled, tilting her head a little as she replied, "I'll hold ya to that."

Making their way towards the barracks, Drake grimaced at the pain in her leg. Noticing her distress, Kilroy spoke up in agitation, "Hurting that bad? Didn't the sleazebag order you any pain medication? Does Kilroy have to slap a bitch again, is that how it's gonna be?"

Letting out a small laugh, Drake shook her head. "It's not that. I got prescribed some pretty strong stuff, so there's no way in hell I'm taking it before tonight."

Kilroy let out an _aaaaaaah_ as she realized what her friend was talking about. "It's almost time, huh?" Kilroy sighed.

Drake nodded, and the duo of assaults continued on towards their room, ready to change into their uniforms.

* * *

"Atteeeee-ntion!" came the shout of Central Officer Bradford, causing the lines of XCOM soldiers to snap into attention.

The natural earth floor of the cave was littered with rocks, soil and roots. The operatives were lined up on both sides of the path leading from the metal door into the middle of the cave. There, a single grave was dug, awaiting its resident.

The door creaked loudly as the locking mechanisms came to life, releasing the latches inside and sliding the door upwards. The military band situated against one of the cavern's walls broke into a mournful piece, trumpets announcing the departure of one of Earth's heroes.

The procession came through the doorway, carrying the simple wooden coffin with the XCOM flag on top of it. The words _Vigilo Confido _stood solemnly on top of the insignia. I am watchful. I am relied upon.

Foogleman and Kilroy were carrying at the head, followed by Scubaman and Iku at the hands, and lastly Medve and Daishi at the feet.

"Guardians of Earth! SALUTE!" rang the order from Central Officer Bradford, and the arms of the XCOM personnel rose in unison. Even the commander was there, standing in salute next to Bradford, Chief-engineer Shen and Doctor Vahlen.

The funeral procession arrived at the end of the road and the casket began its slow, steady descent into the grave. With a gentle thud, it reached its destination and the procession dropped the ends of their linen into the hole in the ground.

Lining up on both sides of the resting place, the six operatives took their positions, standing in attention. The military personnel lowered their arms, and the music died down. The commander stepped forwards, taking a deep breath. With a voice only betraying the slightest hint of emotion, he spoke the words:

"From this Earth you came. On this Earth you lived. For this Earth you gave your life. Into this Earth shall you return once again. Rest in peace, Frag._ Vigilo Confido_."

Responding, everyone in the cavern repeated the last words in unison. The band started up another song in memory of the fallen, and the six operatives on the graveside took up the shovels sticking from the earthen soil, laying Frag into his final rest.

* * *

Foogleman was sitting on a stool by the counter of the break room, the fury inside her building up by the minute. Sitting next to her were the only other operatives in the room: Drake with her crutches leaning against the counter, Medve with his head hanging down and Renzol, staring off into a corner of the room. Post-op drinks had become a tradition around the base, yet the shock of the whole situation had meant no drinks yesterday.

Foogleman had demanded the break room be left for the crew from Frag's last operation after the funeral, with the other operatives set to join them after an hour. Everyone had agreed, though Foogleman didn't know whether it was because they agreed with her or were afraid of her and frankly, she didn't care. Only Volatile was missing, her injuries too grave and making her too exhausted to carry on after the funeral.

Touching the sunglasses hanging from her tank top, the scout closed her eyes and took in a deep breath through clenched teeth. "This it?" she spoke in a cold, reserved voice, holding back her anger.

The other operatives glanced at her, clearly distressed by the heavy atmosphere that was hanging over the squad. Raising her voice, Foogleman continued, "I said is this it? Is this how it's gonna be, huh?"

Drake reached over to grab her friend's shoulder and with a weak voice, started, "Foogle…" The assault was cut off by Foogleman shaking her hand away, staring her in the eye.

"Is this how you're all gonna act from now on?" the scout pressed on. "Every time someone dies we fall silent, wallowing in self-pity and crying ourselves to sleep? Is that it?"

Turning around towards Medve and Renzol, Foogleman was steadily gaining steam. "You think this is what Frag would've wanted? You think he wasn't prepared? I KNOW he was prepared and if he could see you people right now, he'd be shaking his goddamn head." The scout stared into each one of their faces, forcing them to look back at her.

Medve's brow was furrowed in a mask of sadness under his bald head, but Foogleman could see his contemplative look, so similar to Frag's in some ways, come through. The man turned his eyes to the sunglasses he was fiddling with on the counter, letting out a low _hmmmm_.

Renzol looked lost, her eyes mournful as she looked the driven scout in the eye. Turning away from her gaze, Renzol pretended to brush up the sunglasses perched in her blonde hair. _Damn, kid. Were you always this lost?_ the thought crossed Foogleman's mind, before she turned over to Drake.

Drake was smiling up at her, leaning against the counter. The exotic woman let out a small bark of a laugh and shook her head, the dark sunglasses almost hidden in her black hair. "What do you want us to do, Foogs?"

Grinning down at her friend, Foogleman reached over and pulled five shot glasses from the stack on the counter. Slamming one in front of everyone, she exclaimed, "Drink!" Handing over a bottle of bourbon to Medve, the scout ordered, "You do the honors big man."

While Medve poured the drinks, Foogleman dug a pair of busted sunglasses from her pocket. Gently placing them on the counter, she put the fifth shot glass in between them. Turning over to pour Drake a drink, Medve noticed the sunglasses and the empty shot glass. With a small smile, he poured one for Frag.

With everyone having a drink in their hands, Foogleman stood up on the foot rail of the counter, rising a head above Medve. Taking a look around Frag's Finest, the scout raised her shot glass high above her head and let out a veritable battle cry:

"For Frag!"

* * *

The bottom of the bunk on top of her was revolving, around and around, causing the knot in the pit of her stomach to churn about her insides.

Renzol closed her eyes, but that only made the world spin ever faster. Covering her eyes with her arm, the small woman took a disjointed breath. She wasn't exactly a heavy drinker, and the way Sergeant Foogleman had kept on pouring her shots had been too much for her. She had tried to say no, but the scout hadn't taken no for an answer. Renzol wasn't really sure whether she'd had fun or not, but she definitely wasn't having fun now.

Clambering up from her bunk, she steadied herself onto a sitting position on the edge of the bed. She took another breath, this one much deeper, sending her head spinning around and around. She grabbed onto the edge of Atlanton's bunk on top of her, waiting for the vertigo to pass before getting up. The churning in her stomach was getting worse by the minute.

Renzol teetered her way across the room, making it to the door. Pushing it open carefully she stumbled into the corridor. The lights weren't exactly bright during night time, but their orange glow still burned her eyes, causing her to shy away from them. Grabbing a hold of the wall, the rocketeer made her way to the end of the corridor where the toilets were located.

As she approached the restroom, the urgency of the wallowing in her stomach started to demand more and more of her attention. Breaking into a teetering jog, she slammed open the door to the restroom and sprinted for the closest stall. Crashing in through the door, Renzol dropped down on her knees and let out the contents of her stomach into the toilet in a flurry of pained gags.

Her abs tightened up as they struggled to purge everything from her body, sweat dripping down her face and tears welling up in her eyes, hands clasping the sides of the toilet until her knuckles turned white. After what seemed like an eternity, the convulsions finally died down. Grabbing a handful of toilet paper from the roll, she fell back against the stall, wiping her mouth.

Sitting against the wall of the toilet stall in her pitiful state, Renzol thought back to the operation. The look on Frag's face as he reassured her in the Skyranger. The rockets she had fired with shaking hands, unable to hold them on target. The man lying down on the alien ship, blood everywhere, forever lost to this world. The funeral, and the words spoken by the commander.

Renzol burst into tears as she curled up, pulling her knees up to her chin. _It's your fault. You let him down, and you let him die, _the thought haunting her. _But I'm weak, I can't help it. I'm not like Foogleman, or Drake. I'm nothing, I'm worthless._

Her body shaken by violent sobs, Renzol was disgusted with herself, with the weakness she was showing. And that disgust in herself made her weaker, a never-ending cycle of self-hatred she couldn't see a way out of.

The shakes finally dying down, the young woman wiped at her eyes, letting out a groan of frustration. _I need to be strong. I can't let this happen again. I can't let more people die._ In a drunken haze, Renzol got up, sniffling as she opened the stall door. Stumbling out, she tried to make her way back to her bunk as quietly as she could.

Closing the door behind her as she entered her room, Renzol heard Atlanton stir in the bunk above hers. "Hhhmmm, Renzol? You okay?" came the sleepy inquiry from her friend, causing Renzol's heart to skip a beat.

Not daring to betray her condition with a sniffle, Renzol bore on with her running nose. "Yeah, just had an upset stomach. Good night." Atlanton responded with a mumbled _g'night_ and turned her side, back asleep in mere seconds.

Renzol gingerly got back in her bed, the world spinning a little less around her now, and the churning in her stomach completely gone. Pulling the blanket up to her chin, the frail girl in her felt like crying some more. Closing her eyes, Renzol summoned forth the picture of Frag, looking down at her in the Skyranger, smiling ever so confidently.

_I need to be strong._


	12. Chapter 11: El Zorro

Chapter 11: _El Zorro_

"Whew! It sure felt good to be back out there, I've been stranded in the base for far too long!" exclaimed Atlanton, striding down the ramp.

The Skyranger hangar wasn't exactly a massive room by traditional hangar bay standards, but for a facility completely buried underground, it was of an impressive size. It was the largest room in the XCOM base, with gray metal walls extending up to the surface of the earth, forming into a dome at the top with an extraction hatch just large enough to let the aircraft through. The landing pad was located in the middle of the circular room, with another level some three meters higher circling around it. On both sides of the landing pad, doors led into maintenance shacks of the Skyranger engineers, and at either end of the hall, large stairways connected the two levels together.

The squad made their way over to one of the staircases and started their ascent. Atlanton was at the head of the group, shaking her blonde hair loose from the tight bun she'd shackled it into for the operation, with Kilroy close behind. Zim, DSM and Ballystix followed, while Scubaman hung back near the landing pad, chatting up one of the engineers tending to the aircraft. On the upper level, the squad headed for the door leading into the arsenal. Dropping off their weapons, they hit the locker room next door.

"I sure could use a shower, this crap smells like it'll never come off!" complained Kilroy, regarding the flak jacket she'd peeled off of herself with disgust.

The acid from the thin man had evaporated ages ago, but it had left a horrific smell behind it. Kilroy lifted her arms and sniffed about her arms and armpits with a thoughtful look on her face. "I can't actually even tell whether or not I stink myself. Hey Ballystix, you smell anything?" the assault cracked, offering her armpit for inspection.

"You always smell, Kilroy!" proclaimed Scubaman, striding into the locker room.

Kilroy turned to the infantryman with an unamused look and offered him the finger in retort. The man strode up to Kilroy and sniffed her all over, his face twisting into an exaggerated mask of sadness. "Yeah, there go my dreams of ever gettin' it on with you. RIP dreams", quipped the Latino, letting out a deep sigh.

Sitting down on the bench, Kilroy got to work on the lacings of her combat boots. "I'd rather do a whole pod of thin men before I'd 'get it on with you', mister", the assault sneered, pulling off one of her boots.

Putting up his best Latino-lover face, Scubaman pulled off his flak jacket, dropping it to the floor. The tank top followed, and with muscled torso completely bare but for the dog tags hanging from his neck, he gyrated his hips and lowered his voice to a rough seductive whisper, "I see you have not heard of Señor Scubaman, _mi amor_. Renowned lover and killer of _la Xeno. _One night with me, Corporal Kilroy, and you will never see the pleasures of this world the same again._"_

Kilroy struggled to keep a straight face, breaking into a sputter of laughter. Shaking her head, she muttered, "Goddammit Scuba."

Looking around the room, Scubaman saw Ballystix staring over at them, laughing silently with his eyes. Atlanton was sitting down on the bench across the room, grinning at them. DSM next to her whispered something, causing both of them to burst into laughter. Zim on the other hand was regarding the Latino with an approving glimmer in her eyes, brazenly eyeing the man up and down.

"Why is she laughing? I am being serious here", Scubaman deadpanned, spreading his arms in feigned puzzlement.

Pulling her other boot off, Kilroy spoke up, "Get out of those clothes, Specialist Scubaman! We have post-op drinks to get to and I'm not about to wait around for your lazy ass."

Turning over to Zim, Scubaman puckered his lips and gave a smug grin at the gunner. "Oh yeah, now we are talking! The corporal is being quite commanding. _El Zorro_ can appreciate a lady take charge."

Zim barked up a small laugh and retorted, "El Zorro my ass! That bod of yours is the only thing you've got going for yourself!"

Turning away towards the exit, the German slung her bag over her shoulder. Stopping at the door, she looked back towards Scubaman, gesturing for him to turn around. His feet close together, Scuba complied with tiny steps, sticking out his ass. Zim narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips together approvingly. Lifting her eyes to meet Scuba's, she sent him a wetly smacking flying kiss and strode out of the locker room.

Turning to Kilroy, the infantryman lifted his eyebrows, "Corporal, I think I just got sexually harassed."

Everyone in the locker room burst into laughter, Scubaman looking around the squad in feigned puzzlement, the gag never ending, always along for the joyride.


	13. Chapter 12: Looking up

Chapter 12: Looking up

Hustling and bustling filled the cafeteria as lunch time hit the XCOM base. Renzol sat at the end of one of the long tables, away from the rest of the troops. For the first time in days, she had a proper appetite for food and was positively devouring the boiled potatoes topped off with meatball sauce and a hefty side of salad. Across from her, Atlanton sat down on the other side of the table and gave the rocketeer an amused look.

"I take it the operation went well?" the Aussie engineer remarked, taking a bite out of her sandwich.

Renzol washed a mouthful of potato and meatball down with a big gulp of milk and gave her lips a wipe with a napkin. "Yeah. It felt good to be out there after..." The rocketeer's voice trailed off for a moment, before continuing, "You know. It felt good." Returning her attention to the food, she pushed the dark thoughts off her mind.

Atlanton put down her utensils and leaned back against her chair, "Yep, I definitely know what you mean. I just got back into rotation a couple days ago, and it was like I'd forgotten what a goddamn sectoid looks like!"

The engineer regarded Renzol with an affectionate look. She had been really worried for the small rocketeer after the alien troop ship operation and the loss of Frag, but it looked like she was starting to feel a lot better.

Looking up from her food, Renzol kept the small talk going, "How did the poker game go?"

Atlanton had been excited to join the weekly poker game down in Scubaman's and Orgun's party box. This week, the duo had organized play-offs for the different rooms where the winners would advance to the finals held at their dwelling. The prize pool in the finals would be composed of the entry fees from all of the participants in all of the rooms, totaling up to quite an impressive pile of cash. Renzol hadn't participated as she had no interest in gambling, but the young engineer had managed to make her way into the finals.

Atlanton reached over her shoulders and tightened up her blonde ponytail, answering in a remorseful voice, "Aaah, it was a complete and total bust. I was the first to drop out. Goddamn Awo and his bluffs."

Renzol looked up at her friend and asked in surprise, "Awo, from Foogleman's room? I thought Foogle would've made it to the final."

The engineer let out a sharp laugh, almost bordering on mocking. Shaking her head, she scolded Renzol in an amused tone, "She's not some inhumane machine or a goddess who can do everything perfectly, Renzol-dear. I know you look up to her but damn. She's just another regular hard-ass bitch." Renzol felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment.

Continuing their lunch in silence, the young women were saved from the awkward atmosphere by Scubaman laying his behind down in the chair next to Renzol.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here if not two young, lovely ladies. Atlanton, your hair is as lovely as ever I see. Renzol, your eyes make the poet in me go astray with expressions for thine beauty", the infantryman flattered the two female operatives.

The red returned to Renzol's cheeks, but Atlanton snorted in contempt. "You, a poet? Please Scubaman, you couldn't recite a line if your life depended on it."

Straightening his back, Scubaman summoned a distant look into his eyes, stretching one arm out in front of him and placing the other one on his heart, articulating in a horrific British accent, "To be, or not to be with me? 'Twas the question."

Atlanton burst into a loud cackle of a laugh, and Renzol smiled quietly at her food. Returning from his jest, Scubaman turned towards Renzol with a smile, "That was some badass rocketing on the op, Renzol. I'd have you covering my back over Orgun any day." The flushing on Renzol's cheeks deepened as she muttered a thank you to the cheerful Latino.

The operation had been a massive success. The squad consisting of Kilroy, Foogleman, Kungtotte, Scubaman, Medve and Renzol herself had assaulted the rooftop of a Japanese high-rise under construction in Sapporo. A swarm of floaters had attacked them right after landing, and Renzol had secured the squad's flank with a rocket, allowing the rest of them to capitalize on the enemy in disarray. The battle had taken less than two minutes as the XCOM operatives had swept the enemy off the building in a display of unified squad tactics, Renzol playing a key part in the operation.

Just thinking about the mission made Renzol's smile widen. Glancing up from her plate, she saw Orgun approach their location on the other side.

"How can you say that Scuba? You haven't even BEEN on a mission with me yet!" he cried out in feigned hurt. The Irishman set his tray down next to Atlanton, turning to the woman with a mournful look, "He thinks he's so funny, but the words, they hurt. Oh how they always hurt."

Orgun was starting to look a lot more like himself after the time he'd spent in medbay since the disastrous operation in Brazil. Multiple stomach lavages and various other medical procedures had been required to purge the acid from his system, and it had left him weak and in need of rehabilitation before he could return to duty. The rocketeer had proclaimed himself the lab rat of XCOM, discovering the dangers of acid himself and saving others from it. And indeed, the studies on the actual effects the substance had in a human's body had led to some new developments in the medical approaches and treatments of any future cases. And as Orgun liked to tell everyone personally: "If you ever get acided, stay the fuck put and don't ever move."

Finishing her meal, Renzol ignored the squabble that was fast developing between Scubaman and Orgun, the duo always in a perpetual motion of gibes and jests. The tiny rocketeer got up from the table, picking up her tray and turning to Atlanton.

"I'll see you later, I have to go submit my post-op report", Renzol told her friend. Turning to the duo of rascals, Renzol gave them a small nod as a goodbye, but neither even noticed her as the retorts and gibes got ever more heated between the two of them. Atlanton waved her goodbye and with that, Renzol took off towards the front of the cafeteria to return her dishes.

* * *

Medve was sitting in his new chair in his new room, staring blankly at the new stack of papers on his new desk. The room wasn't exactly massive, but large enough to accommodate a bunk, a writing desk, a chair for the desk and a closet. It should've felt like luxury after the shared rooms of rank and file, but instead it just made Medve feel uneasy. Fidgeting around in his chair, the big man instinctively reached for the carton of cigars on the table. Realizing what he was doing, Medve let out a deep sigh and pulled his hand back, running it over his bald head.

The brass of XCOM had been revamped in the past few weeks, and Medve was the first in a new line of lieutenants. With the new rank came new privileges and responsibilities, and the ex-SWAT wasn't sure how to take it. He did have experience in leading a squad back in SWAT and during XCOM operations, but he had never been involved in the actual chain of command outside of the field. Even leading men out there didn't come exactly naturally to Medve; he was a man of few words and coming up with inspirational speeches or profound actions to inspire courage in people took a lot out of him.

Turning his gaze back to the stack of paperwork on his desk, the gunner propped his elbows on the table and crossed his hands below his chin. _This job should've fallen to you, Frag. How did you lead us with such ease? How did you make everyone believe in you just by your mere presence?_

With a deep sigh and a heavy heart, Medve pulled the stack of papers closer and began his painstaking work.


	14. Chapter 13: Pure terror

Chapter 13: Pure Terror

The sun was setting down in Johannesburg, South Africa. The sounds of gunfire filled the air at the city's central train terminus as Cell hosed suppressive fire through the railcar. The floaters hiding on the other side of the carriage were disregarding the XCOM operatives assaulting them, gunning down civilians mercilessly.

"We have to do something!" shouted Atlanton, the young Australian operative crossing to the other side of the railcar, pulling out a grenade ready to support an assault on the floaters.

A deep, blood-curdling howl emanated from the back of the train yard, freezing the engineer in place. From across the yard, she could see a horde of four monstrous creatures climbing over railcars, rushing towards the XCOM squad. With chitin of deep purple and tiny eyes glowing a faint orange, the insect-like creatures clattered forwards at incredible speed on four long, deadly claws.

"Oh my god what the fuck is this!?" screamed Atlanton in horror at the sight approaching them.

"Come on, form a line! We have to hold them off!" came the shout from Toothcake, the female assault getting out into the open to get a clear shot at the approaching chryssalids, Ballystix joining her side, shoulder to shoulder.

Atlanton took off, crossing over to the next railcar, pulling the pin from her AP grenade on the move. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the chryssalids get caught in the bright flash of a flashbang, sending them scampering in four different directions. The shotguns of Toothcake and Ballystix roared, and the front-runner dropped down to the ground in a heap of cracked chitin.

Hitting the corner of the next railway carriage, to her horror Atlanton saw one of the creatures run towards her position. Stopping at the corner on the other side of the carriage, the creature rose on its rear claws and impaled a hapless man with its front ones. The civilian let out a pitiful squeal as bloodied claws burst out of his back, the shock no doubt putting an end to his misery within seconds.

The chryssalid pulled the man close, spewing saliva into its victim's mouth. To make matters even worse, four more floaters barreled into sight from behind the railcars, howling in their muffled voices, plasma carbines sending a hail of energy towards the engineer. Tossing the grenade around the corner at the swarm of enemies, Atlanton pulled behind the corner and pressed herself against the carriage, covering herself from the blast.

To her left, she saw the squad desperately battle on. Toothcake and Cell were pulling back from the railway carriage and out into the open, shotgun blasting buckshot and SAW spewing bullets at the enemy. Ballystix was trying to cross over to support Atlanton, a barrage of plasma from between the railcars striking the man down to the ground. With a determined grimace on his face, the assault dragged himself towards a telephone pole with a large concrete base around it, taking cover from the plasma fire striking all around him, filling the air with gusts of soil and fine concrete dust. From farther down the line, Atlanton could hear the echoes of the battle Awo, Hypergeek and DSM were waging against the massive, overwhelming force of aliens. Atlanton turned towards Ballystix, ready to support her brother-in-arms.

Then the tide of the battle turned, from crashing waves into an insurmountable tsunami. From between the railcars, the man she had seen die just moments ago shuffled out into the open. Trails of blood ran down from his mouth, face frozen in a horrific mask of agony, dead eyes staring off into the distance. His overalls were soiled red from the two gaping holes in his chest, yet the man still moved, some unknown force driving him on.

Growling in a low voice, the man made his way towards Ballystix, still pinned down behind the telephone pole. Farther down the line, Atlanton could see multiple shuffling figures emerge from the other railway carriages, the rest of the XCOM operatives pulling back in the other direction, leaving her and Ballystix cut off.

Backing up, Atlanton fired her assault rifle at the zombie. The bullets sank into the dead man's shoulder, only causing him to sway a little, still shuffling towards the pinned Ballystix. Retreating towards the back of the carriage, Atlanton cupped a hand around her mouth, shouting at the assault, "Get over here, I'll cover you!" Rounding into the back of the railcar, Atlanton reached for a high explosive grenade in her rigging, pulling the pin off and stepping around the corner.

The three floaters holding Ballystix down were taking cover behind a forklift, firing their plasma carbines through the gap in-between the railcars. Tossing her HE grenade, Atlanton screamed for the assault to move. The grenade exploded, sending one of the floaters down to alien hell, and Ballystix darted out from behind the telephone pole.

Plasma flying in the air, the assault ducked and weaved his way through the open battlefield, dashing past the zombie, its arms flailing after the operative. Turning around mid-run, Ballystix fired his shotgun at the corpse, sending a spray of blood into the dusky air.

Turning back to cover against the floaters, Atlanton readied her rifle. A plasma barrage struck the corner of the railcar, causing her to jerk back. Turning her head, Atlanton saw Ballystix take cover next to her, the engineer raising her voice to be heard over the sounds of the battle filling the air.

"You kill that thing, I'll cove-"

The young operative was cut off as a floater barreled its way to the corner of the railcar. From point-blank range, the high-energy barrage from its carbine tore Atlanton's face apart, burning through her skull and sending the woman crashing into the ground.

With widening eyes, Ballystix turned around, trying to get away from the floater, muttering a repeated denial in a low, panicked voice. Rushing around the corner, the assault scrambled into the open embrace of the zombie, his muttered denials turning into shrieks of horror as the dead man sank its teeth into his flesh.

* * *

"NO! Jesus Christ - fuck, NO!" Awo shouted, a hard, cold knot twisting the back of his throat.

Ballystix was screaming at the end of the train yard, the dead man tearing into his artery, pushing the assault into the ground. Toothcake was lying on the ground next to Hypergeek, bleeding her life's blood into the dusty ground as the day's last rays of sunlight cast long shadows on the train yard.

The chryssalids were long gone, having disappeared into the shadows between the railway carriages, preferring the easy meat littered around the train yard that didn't fight back. The XCOM squad had been deployed to save lives, but right now, all Awo could think of was keeping the rest of his people safe.

"Fall back! We have to fall back goddammit!" the infantryman shouted, retreating to the back of the nearby railcar, reloading his shotgun frantically.

Cell was stuck behind a telephone pole, spraying suppressive fire at the floater that had taken Toothcake's life, covering for Hypergeek who was huddled next to her. The engineer was staring at Toothcake's body, his voice panicked as he muttered to himself in French.

Looking up towards the end of the yard, the Belgian screamed out, "We have to help Ballystix! He's still alive!"

Awo clenched his teeth together and raised his voice into a commanding roar, "He's as good as dead! God-fucking-dammit get your ass back in the fight Hypergeek! FALL BACK! NOW!"

Not waiting for an answer, Awo turned around, running towards the back of the line of railcars. Chryssalids were darting in-between the railway carriages farther into the train yard, moving from shadow to shadow. Their howls filled the air as darkness fell upon the train yard.

The sound of an explosion signaled Hypergeek's and Cell's retreat, covered by the engineer's last HE grenade. Turning back to his squad, Awo saw the two troopers running from telephone pole to telephone pole, dodging plasma fire from the floaters with a chryssalid on their heels, the creature steadily gaining ground on them.

"Over here!" the shout from DSM rang in the air, the woman signaling to Hypergeek and Cell from behind the last telephone pole on the line, scrambling to reload her shotgun.

The chryssalid was right on their heels, ready to pounce and wipe the squad off the face of the earth. A zombie was trailing behind it, and another one shambled into view from between the railcars close to Awo, headed towards DSM.

The former police officer took the shot, spraying the dead woman's brains out into the nightfall. "GET DOWN!" he shouted, Hypergeek and Cell hitting the deck as they came dashing past the telephone pole, scrambling for their lives.

Awo fired his shotgun, and the chryssalid reared from the impact. Wheeling over on the ground, Cell fired her SAW from an awkward angle, nailing the chryssalid with a short burst, sending the bug toppling over its rear claws, lifeless as the zombie behind it.

Moving from behind the telephone pole to make room for her squadmates, DSM dashed across the open ground to the railway carriage in front of Awo, firing at the remaining zombie with her shotgun, sending it stumbling backwards. Getting up to a kneeling position and readying his rifle, Hypergeek nailed the corpse in the back of its head, finally laying the dead man to his final rest.

From the shadows on his right Awo saw two chryssalids approach, the predators finally tired of playing around, clattering towards the railcar DSM was hiding behind. Shouting a warning to the scout Awo pulled over to the right, making room at the end of the flatbed railcar he was taking cover behind.

"To me! All of you, move your goddamn asses NOW!"

DSM took off, the chryssalids bursting through the railcar she had been hiding behind. One of the floaters sent out a salvo of plasma at the scout, but the woman shifted her weight from one foot to the other, side-stepping the lethal barrage. Hypergeek and Cell followed, a flurry of plasma striking the telephone pole, sparing the engineer's life.

The enemy kept on charging, a chryssalid coming in from the right followed closely by a floater swaying unstably in the air, propelled by its roaring jets. Awo stepped out from behind the railcar, striking the chryssalid from range with buckshot, slowing the creature's assault. Walking towards the approaching monster, Awo pumped his shotgun.

Meeting the horrifying thing head-on, Awo sent the bug flying into the crates on the open railcar with a resounding thump of his shotgun. Turning to his left, he was greeted by the second chryssalid, jumping to the top of the flatbed, its insect-like eyes glowing orange in the dark of the twilight.

Frantically, Awo started to pump his shotgun. _Fuck me_, the thought flashed across his mind as the creature pounced on him.

The night around him lit up as the muzzle of Hypergeek's assault rifle flared behind him, sending a burst of bullets into the creatures body, penetrating the chitin and sending ichor spilling all over Awo. A salvo of plasma flew past his head, causing Awo to duck into the midst of the chryssalid carcasses.

The loud chatter of Cell's SAW filled the air as she hosed down fire on the three floaters advancing from the left. Scrambling up and over the bodies of the chryssalids, Awo re-oriented himself behind a pile of logs to the left of the railcar.

Shouting into the night, Awo gathered his troops, "Dig in boys and girls! This is the end of the line, one way or the other!"

To his right, DSM let out a savage scream as a floater dropped down into the ground. Pulling his pistol, Awo dropped another on the left as Cell shouted for cover, reloading her machine gun.

With only two floaters left, the aliens exchanged a perplexed look with each other as the humans inexplicably continued to fight. Seeing the moment of victory come, Awo jumped forwards, screaming to his squad, "Screw that order! Push up, don't let these fuckers get away!"

Firing his shotgun, he rattled one of the floaters. A precise burst from Hypergeek's assault rifle dropped the other one and Cell hosed a massive stream of bullets into the night, laying the last enemy down.

And then the train yard was silent, draped in a blessed veil of darkness, concealing the horrors of the battle field.

* * *

The orange lights illuminated the corridors of the XCOM base, a low humming of the electrical systems within the walls giving the facility its own unique silence. Turned down for the night, the lights only provided some illumination, leaving regular intervals of dark shadows in the metallic hallways.

Renzol walked down the long corridor, her face emotionless, eyes staring off into the distance. She didn't know where she was. It could've been anywhere, though the rough, unpolished walls and lack of facilities pointed towards the new, unfinished levels deeper underground. Coming to a halt in-between the lights, Renzol leaned against the cold metal wall.

People had gathered in the break room to honor the memory of the fallen operatives. Awo had been leading the ceremony, drunk off his mind. Renzol had stayed for a while, hanging close to the door. But it had all been too much for the rocketeer, and she had quietly withdrawn into her room.

Even her own bunk hadn't given Renzol any respite as the dead kept on haunting her. Lying down in her bed, she'd kept seeing Atlanton's face, upside-down as her blonde hair hung towards the ground, leaning over from her bunk, grinning at Renzol. She had wept long and hard, her tiny frame shaken by violent sobs. After the tears had died down, she couldn't fall asleep, seeing Atlanton's face every time she closed her eyes.

And so here she was, wandering around the corridors of the underground complex, aimlessly. Seeing the lights go by, one after the other, Renzol drowned herself in the simple visuals. She didn't want to think. She couldn't think. Closing her eyes for longer than it took to blink wasn't an option. So she just walked, ever so slowly, seeing the lights go by, seeing the shadows go by. One always followed the other, but to Renzol, it was all the same; just something to fill her empty mind.

Coming to the cavernous opening in the middle of the level, Renzol regarded the access lift with distant curiosity. She had come to the lower levels after all, though she had no recollection of getting on the lift. Walking up to the huge construction, the intercom buzzed to life as a voice came through:

"You ready to go back up? Just make sure no one hears of this all right? I'm not supposed to let just anybody wander around here."

Renzol didn't respond, instead just staring up into the huge shaft drilling through the earth as the lift creaked loudly. The machinery below her hummed steadily as it came to life and the huge plateau began its slow ascent. The sides of the access lift were reinforced with huge metal bars, but the bedrock still showed through. Rows of steadily blinking lights filled each four sides of the shaft, and Renzol turned her eyes to the lights as the lift slowly made its way upwards.

The massive lift came to a halt at the top, and Renzol saw the silhouette of a figure stare at her quizzically through the window of a yellow shipping container-turned-construction office. Making her way towards the corridor on the left, the rocketeer noted indignantly that she was now keenly aware of where she was headed.

Walking down through the dimly lit corridor towards the sports halls, a new sound filled the quiet humming of the corridors. The steady sound of strikes landing on a punching bag, accompanied by the occasional grunt. Renzol arrived at the junction and turned to the slightly narrower corridor of the sports section.

Passing by the doors leading to the squash and tennis courts, passing by the gym and the showers, Renzol saw the door of the martial arts room wide open, bright light swarming into the corridor. Coming to a stop by the door, Renzol stared inside.

Foogleman was focused on the red punching bag, fists and knees striking at the hard material as the scout gave it her everything. Her fists and wrists were covered with layers of white tape. Her dark hair was pulled into a high ponytail, strands of hair coming loose and sticking to her face, framing her sharp features. Sweat glimmered on her dark skin, brow furrowed in deep concentration. She was wearing navy blue sweatpants and a white tank top with the nickname LOCKDOWN embroidered across the front, courtesy of Kilroy and Drake. Her sneaker-clad feet bounced her lightly up and down as the woman released another flurry of strikes on the inanimate enemy.

Left, right, left. The strikes landed on the punching bag. Spinning around, Foogleman landed a vicious roundhouse kick on target, jumping to the side as the bag came in hard, swinging back at her. Wiping her brow with the back of her wrist, Foogleman turned towards Renzol. Something in the scout's eyes made the rocketeer come forwards, stepping into the brightly lit room.

Foogleman placed her hands on her hips, taking deep breaths as the rocketeer approached. Her face was a mask, not betraying any emotions. Renzol came to a halt in front of the sergeant, staring up at her face. For a moment, no one said anything.

Ponytail swinging, Foogleman turned her head towards the still-swaying bag. Grabbing onto the punching bag, the scout uttered, "You want to hold this for me?"

With a nod, Renzol went to the other side, taking a hold of the punching bag, putting her weight behind it. Foogleman took a step backwards and took her fighting stance. With a low voice, she spoke:

"I won't hold back."


	15. Chapter 14: Bug hunt

Chapter 14: Bug hunt

Author's note: This is a totally revamped version of the Newfoundland council mission since the way the mission went down in Live and Impossible was a *little* gamey to say the least. Consider it my interpretation of what the mission was meant to be like.

* * *

Snowflakes spiraled down from the heavens over a small fishing village in St. John's, Canada. The occasional gust of arctic winds sent the snow spinning wildly through the air before resuming its slow, peaceful descent. The illusion of a serene night was shattered by the blood-curdling howl of chryssalids echoing through the darkness.

The squad of seven XCOM operatives were in a tight circular formation, backs to the center and weapons trained towards the night, slowly moving through a fishing market. The flashlights from their weapons illuminated abandoned stands filled with fish and fishing equipment, most of it spilled on the ground as the disaster had struck. A torn fishing net flapped lightly in the wind, settling down as the gust passed.

"This is some fucked up Scooby Doo shit right here", muttered Scubaman, his brand new XCOM-engineered laser rifle moving back and forth as the infantryman scanned the night for alien activity.

"No joke", came the response from Kilroy, the assault holding the squad's rear with shotgun at the ready. A sharp clatter from between the stands caused her to take a sharp breath, jerking her weapon on target. Catching only the end of a dark shadow in her flashlight's cone, the clattering died down as the creature moved away from the squad, gone into the night.

"I wish these fucking bugs would just come at us", Merlin whispered to Foogleman next to her. Raising her voice, the woman spoke up, "Permission to scream 'fuck you you stupid fucking bugs' into the night sir?"

Medve was at the head of the group, leading them on towards the docks as another howl pierced the night. "Permission denied", came the response from the officer in a deep voice, never taking his eyes off his sector.

Iku was in formation next to Medve, sniper rifle slung on his back and holding his pistol ready. In his other hand the sniper had a flashlight and he was using it to steady his aim at the wrist. Another chilling howl pierced the air, this time joined by another one. And another. Within moments, the night was filled with a cacophony of horrific howls. The clattering returned, instead this time, the sounds were getting louder.

"Here they come!" screamed Stoli, the engineer firing her shotgun into the night.

The fishing market was illuminated with gunfire, lasers and wildly swinging cones of light as the chryssalids descended upon the squad from between the stands. Medve's SAW hosed bullets in a line, sending splinters of wood flying into the air as two chryssalids stumbled in front of the gunfire. A loud "_ooohhh yyeeeaaahh" _rang in the night as a grenade from Stoli followed, blowing the aliens and the hapless fishing stand to pieces.

"Fuck you you stupid fucking bugs!" screamed Merlin, the scarlet laser beam from her rifle piercing through a chryssalid, burrowing a hole straight through the creatures chitin and burning a hole into the stand behind it.

The SMG model of the laser rifle, the shatterray, was sending out quick bursts of high-powered energy as Foogleman fought alongside Merlin. On the other side of the formation, Scubaman fired precise shots at the approaching enemy in quick succession, dispatching chryssalids one after the other.

And then the battle was over, done as quickly as it had begun. Several purple carcasses littered the wooden boards of the market's walkways and stands. Reloading one after the other, the squad prepared to move on.

Taking a closer look at one of the carcasses lying on top of one of the stands for selling fish, Scubaman remarked, "Chryssalid soup, huh? Whatcha reckon boys and girls?"

"I reckon you get your ass back in formation lance corporal" came the answer from Medve, the lieutenant having zero tolerance for any antics when dealing with such an extremely dangerous enemy.

In a spirited tone, Scubaman responded with a "_roger that"_ and the squad continued to move through the fishing market. The occasional howl still echoed in the night, but they were all off somewhere in the distance.

Emerging from between the last stands of the market, the squad came upon a burning two-story house, the wall on the market's side partially collapsed. Beyond the building, the glow of fire illuminated a massive whaling ship, crashed into the docks with huge holes in its hull. Medve signaled for the squad to secure the perimeter as he received new orders through his earpiece.

The squad spread out in front of the burning house and Scubaman walked up to a shark hanging from a wooden rack on the dockside. Leaning in closer, the man recoiled away from the fish, crying in a disgusted voice, "Holy goddamn tits of Mother Mary that stinks! Remind me to never try shark, that's fucking disgusting!"

Joining the infantryman's side, Iku covered his nose and mouth with his arm. "That can't be right. My grandfather was a fisherman and I used to help him out as a kid. This isn't what spoiled fish smells like", the Japanese sniper remarked.

Turning to his squadmate, Scubaman lifted an eyebrow and pulled on his best detective face, uttering in a low voice, "So would you say there's something…fishy going on here?" Iku gave the jokester an unimpressed look, pulling his rifle from his back and scanning towards the lower docks through the night vision scope.

Walking towards the ship, Medve spoke up, "Okay, let's investigate this ship. Scubaman and Stoli, get working on building a ramp into the ship from those splinters, rest of you keep watch."

Everyone acknowledged the orders, Scuba and Stoli getting to work, picking up large planks littering the devastated area and hauling them over to the ship. The female engineer's blonde braid was hanging on her right shoulder, the strands of hair glowing faintly in the light of the fire, snowflakes getting caught in her fair hair. Bending over, the woman lifted her end of the plank. When nothing happened, she raised her eyes, long eyelashes catching a single snowflake in them.

Scubaman was staring at Stoli's face. Below her beanie, the engineer's cheeks were flushed red from the cold air. Her red lips were full and luscious, and the light blue of her eyes topped off what had to be a gorgeous sight by anybody's standards. The infantryman closed his eyes and let out a swooning, stuttering sigh, bending at the knees.

Stoli grinned, lifting an eyebrow and speaking up, "Just grab that plank Scuba."

Scubaman obliged, letting out infatuated sighs from time to time, causing the woman to shake her head in amusement. It's not like she didn't know what a sight she was; quite the opposite, Stoli enjoyed the attention she got from most men and Scubaman's reactions and silly attempts to woo her always brightened her day.

With the makeshift ramp ready, the squad made their way into the ship, Foogleman taking point with Kilroy. Their flashlights illuminated what was an old and rusty whaling ship, with patches of black ice on deck and piles of snow gathering in the nooks and crannies of the ship. Moving past several containers full of frozen fish, the squad came to the middle where a large mast rose into the skies. Beyond the mast, their flashlights illuminated the cockpit of the ship, the windows partially covered in frost. Turning her light downwards, Foogleman looked into the open cargo space of the ship, crying out in surprise.

The cone of light illuminated a whale lying in the middle of the cargo space. The great sea monster was stained a purple hue, with orange spines sticking out of its body and multiple great holes in its sides pulsing slowly, emitting steam into the cold air. Kilroy and Medve joined Foogleman's side, the lieutenant lifting a hand to his earpiece, requesting new orders from central.

Kilroy let out a low whistle as she remarked to Foogleman, "I guess we found the source of the infestation."

One of the orifices in the nest started to pulse rapidly, and a chryssalid covered in clear goo scampered out into the world. Shouting in surprise, Foogleman and Kilroy brought their guns to bear on the creature. With startling speed, the alien clambered up to its claws and started to run off into the night, the shotgun blast and laser from the shatterray ending the new-born alien's life.

"Baby wanna play, huh?" muttered Kilroy, somewhat concerned by the vigor at which the creatures seemed to enter this world.

Turning to the squad, Medve relayed them new orders, "Stoli, you go prepare ropes on the side of the ship. We're getting the hell out of here ASAP. Foogleman, central will come through on the line to give you instructions on how to activate the ship's transponder in the cockpit. Central will use it to pinpoint an air strike for one of the Council's air bases to wipe these bugs out. Everyone else, keep an eye out for any bugs." Glancing into the cargo hold, the officer added, "Especially down there."

Breaking into a jog, Foogleman made her way towards the cockpit of the ship, careful to avoid slipping on the icy surface. Hanging her shatterray from its sling, she swung the weapon around to the small of her back. Walking up the few steps into the cockpit, she was greeted with an eerily empty space. The captain's hat was lying on the floor, next to a cracked coffee mug. The liquid had frozen to a dark stain, indistinguishable from the rest of the ice on the floor. Making her way over to the control panel, the voice of Chief-engineer Shen came through on the line, instructing her through the process.

Gunshots and the fizzle of lasers echoed from outside as more chryssalids emerged into the world. The shout of Scubaman reached Foogleman's ears, "More from behind!"

The sounds of battle intensified as the scout worked on the control panel. "How much longer Foogle?" came the shout from Medve, the man leaning into the cockpit. The sounds of battle had already died down, the enemy repelled for now.

Foogleman didn't look up from the panel, responding to the officer, "I'm almost done. You guys start leaving, I'll catch up." Pulling back outside, Medve shouted for his people to grapple down the side of the ship.

Foogleman cursed under her breath as the control panel was loading the program. It was taking longer than Shen had expected, and the scout glanced up. Through the half-frozen windows she saw the operatives swing themselves over the side of the ship, sliding down the two ropes Stoli had set up. With everyone gone, Medve looked back towards the cockpit. Foogleman gave him a thumbs up and the officer slung his SAW to his back, climbing over the edge. Looking down, Foogleman urged for the program to finish loading.

After ten or so more seconds, the control panel let a small dinging noise and the screen indicated a successful activation of the transponder. Foogleman let out a sharp breath and looked up, ready to follow her squad. The scout froze in place.

Through the window, a chryssalid stared at the woman, its predatory insect-like eyes glowing eerily in the night. Foogleman dived to her left as the chryssalid crashed in through the window, sending shards of frozen glass flying all over the cockpit, chinking as they fell on the control panel and the ground.

Wheeling herself around on all fours, the scout searched for solid foothold on the icy floor, feet shuffling back and forth as she slid further away from her squad. Regaining her balance, Foogleman lifted her hands from the floor but stayed in a crouched stance, ready to pounce. The chryssalid hadn't been any slower, clambering up from a tangle of claws, staring at the scout. Its eerily humanoid-like arms ended in clawed fingers, twitching in anticipation at the first meal of its life.

Foogleman stared down the chryssalid, not daring to make a move. Slowly, she inched her right hand closer to the sawn-off shotgun on her hip. She didn't know if other chryssalids had come up, and she didn't dare take her eyes off the horrific creature staring down at her. From a distance, the sounds of gunfire reached her ears. Tensing her body, Foogleman made the first move.

Pulling the sawn-off shotgun from its holster, she dashed forwards. The chryssalid pounced on her, lifting its front claws, ready to impale her against the floor of the cockpit. The shotgun in Foogleman's hand exploded, sending the creature reeling on its rear claws, front ones swinging wildly at the air as the bug tried to maintain its balance. Continuing her movement, Foogleman dropped the weapon and slid under the swinging claws of the creature, grabbing onto the terminal on her left. Lifting herself up, she vaulted out of the broken window, her heart beating a thousand beats per minute, adrenaline rushing through her body.

Hitting the icy deck of the ship, the scout maintained her balance. Dashing towards the edge of the ship, she moved as fast as she could. Stepping on the edge of the ship, a thought flashed in Foogleman's mind, _Go hard or go home._ Tensing the muscles in her leg, she leapt.

Swinging her arms to gain maximum distance to the creature no doubt chasing her, Foogleman saw the battle further down the docks. The cones of light were swinging wildly as the squad made a fighting retreat against the swarm. Red lines of light pierced the night as Scubaman and Merlin fired their laser rifles, and Foogleman could see multiple shadows move about the shipping containers.

As she reached the peak of her jump, the scout turned her eyes towards the ground. She must have been twenty meters up in the air, and the fall would no doubt incapacitate her if not executed perfectly. Eyes peeled wide open and blood rushing in her ears, Foogleman clenched her teeth together as she began her descent.

Striking the snowy dock, the scout bent her knees, the shock rattling her teeth. Continuing her motion with a roll, she came to her feet, stumbling a little before continuing in full sprint. In front of her, the dock came up in a two meter high wall, with stairs further to her left. Jumping up, Foogleman pulled herself up to the next level, grunting as she struggled to keep her breathing going hard. Scrambling forwards, she took off in full force again, the lights of her squad now at the end of the dock.

"There she is!" came a shout from further up as her team spotted the scout running for her life.

Foogleman didn't dare look back. Giving it all she had, she ran on, the chilling air burning her lungs, her legs screaming at her to slow down. From a shipping container to her right, she saw a chryssalid burst out from the shadows. Shifting her weight to the left, Foogleman dashed behind another shipping container, never slowing down, not daring to slow down. Jumping over the crates and piles of fishing equipment littering the docks, the scout made her way to the end of the docks.

The squad was up at the Skyranger LZ, Medve signaling for his people to get in. Scubaman was firing his laser rifle into the docks from the top of the stairs, a shout from Medve causing the man to turn his head around.

"Come on Foogle, you can do it!" the infantryman shouted, firing once more into the docks before turning around, running for the Skyranger.

Foogleman reached the stairs, loping them up two at a time, her breathing breaking down, her legs ready to give out. Reaching the top, she saw the Skyranger ramp start to close through eyes stinging with sweat. Scubaman was shouting at her, urging her on, gesturing wildly with his hand for her to run over. Foogleman pushed her head down and swung wildly with her arms, propelling herself to a final sprint, jumping over the half-closed ramp and crashing into Scubaman.

The scout and infantryman toppled over onto the floor of the Skyranger. The jets roared as the aircraft took off, ramp still closing. The claws of a chryssalid burst into the aircraft as the creature giving her chase reached them, all too late for the newborn alien. Clawing furiously at the ramp, the creature's head came to view. With a resounding clang, the ramp closed, cutting the bug's front claws off, sending them rolling into the floor of the Skyranger.

Panting wildly against Scubaman's chest, Foogleman laid her head down. Her whole body was on fire, face and back soiled with sweat. Scubaman was laughing wildly, the rest of the squad cheering around them as the aircraft flew off into the night.

"I could get used to this, you know", came the jest from Scubaman, giving her back a soft caress. Foogleman closed her eyes, too tired to respond to the jest.

Too happy to be alive to care.


	16. Chapter 15: Beatdown

Chapter 15: Beatdown

"Come on, keep your guard up!"

The shout of Foogleman rang in the martial arts room as Daishi and Zim were locked in a duel in the middle of the room. Kickboxing gloves in hand, the female operatives circled each other, ready to pounce at the sight of any openings. Zim dashed forwards, sending two strikes at the scout's abdomen. Crouching slightly, Daishi blocked the hits with her arms, catching the gunner in the shoulder with a counter attack.

Pulling back with a grunt, Zim was scolded by their instructor, "What the hell are you doing Zim? Don't overcommit!" Eyeing the pair up with calculating eyes, Foogleman added, "And Daishi, keep your back straight! You look ridiculous squatting like that, you're not a goddamn hunchback!"

Correcting her posture, the Canadian went on the offensive. Using her superior reach, she jabbed at Zim's face, causing the German to back up, covering her face with her arms.

"Using your reach, I like that! Keep it up, push that advantage!" came the encouragement from Foogleman as she urged the two operatives on.

At the side of the room, Drake and Kilroy sat against the wall with Wolfer and Vherid. Drake had her left leg stretched out in front of her, a weight strapped to the ankle as she kept lifting it from the ground, exercising the still-healing limb.

"What did I tell ya, Daishi's got this one in the bag!" Kilroy exclaimed cheerfully as her candidate kept on pushing the advantage.

Drake was grimacing in pain, sweat dripping down her brow as she struggled to lift her leg one more time. Finally giving up, she laid her leg on the floor and rested her head against the wall, letting out an exhausted breath. Turning her attention back to the fight, Drake witnessed the end of the match.

Zim ducked under the assault from the scout, stepping forwards and bringing her fist hard into the tall woman's gut, causing Daishi to double over in pain. Falling to one knee, she let out a pained grunt, gasping for air. Zim jumped to an upright position, lifting her arms over her head and exclaiming in victory.

The onlookers cheered the triumphant gunner, and Zim took a victory pose, crossing her arms behind her head and sticking her hips out to the side. Her dark hair was swinging in a ponytail and her cheeks were flushed from the exercise. Drake turned to Kilroy with raised eyebrows and the erred assault looked away from her friend, glancing cluelessly around the room.

Foogleman stepped over to Daishi, helping the defeated scout to her feet. "That was good, but you can't let your guard down like that. Pressing on was the right choice, but be smart about it next time."

Daishi acknowledged the advice with a smile, a nod and a _"yes, sergeant"_ before turning to Zim. The scout took the woman in a brief embrace and uttered a whole-hearted congratulation before leaving the mat, headed for the back of the hall to stretch out her muscles.

"Good work Zim. You might not be the quickest or the strongest, but you've got great intuition and feel for the fight. That can take you far", the sergeant commented, sending Zim off to stretch as well with a pat on the back. Raising her voice, Foogleman summoned the next pair of trainees onto the mat and from the other side of the hall, the two Germans Renzol and Stoli headed towards the ring.

Wolfer, the South African assault with impressive biceps and a true rock of a jaw spoke up, "My money's on The Babe." The strong man flexed his right bicep, causing the tattoo of the assault's insignia to stretch along with the muscle.

Vherid regarded the duo of approaching female operatives quietly before responding, "No way man, Renzol's going to take this one. Just look at her eyes."

The comment made Drake look over at the approaching rocketeer. The tank top she was wearing hugged her slender frame, displaying a strong torso and shoulders, though her arms were not quite there. Her hair was cut shorter than before, not quite reaching her chin. A sweatband held the blonde locks back from her face, and her blue eyes were determined, cool wells.

Drake turned to Kilroy, the assault regarding Renzol with an intense look. "This should be a good one", Kilroy commented and Drake turned back to the pair. To their left, Vherid and Wolfer agreed on the price of the bet and a slap of hands confirmed it, the two women now ready to fight.

Foogleman recounted the rules of the fight and with her go, the two operatives launched into the fight. Stoli took the initiative, her blonde ponytail bobbing up and down in rhythm with her impressive bust. Renzol blocked the tentative first strike. Another one followed and Renzol pulled back, lowering her arms from the block. Circling each other, both operatives waited for the other to make a move.

Stepping in, Renzol sent a jab at Stoli's head. The strike was blocked but another one followed, and then another one. Seeing the rocketeer's guard drop, Stoli came forward, sending a hard jab at her opponent's face. However, Renzol had anticipated the counter attack. With the bait taken, the small woman side-stepped the hit, sweeping her leg in and toppling Stoli over. Kneeling next to the engineer, Renzol tapped the woman gently at the back of the head, signaling she had the lethal strike.

The people on the side burst into applause, with Wolfer making his disappointment known with a loud curse. Foogleman was nodding her head in approval while Stoli rolled over on the ground, clearly upset to be beaten so soundly in such a short time. Renzol offered her hand to help the woman up but Stoli ignored the gesture, jumping up and stomping her way over to the door, heading straight for the showers.

"Impressive", Drake commented, turning to Kilroy with a tilt of her head.

Kilroy was smiling, staring at the rocketeer who was getting her comments from Foogleman. Under her breath, the assault muttered, "Maybe I was wrong after all."

Drake lifted her eyebrows quizzically and let out a small "_hmmm?"_ but her friend didn't follow up on the comment, instead turning over to taunt Wolfer.

Turning her attention back to the weight on her leg, Drake got back to working on the rehabilitation, eager to be back in shape and on the mat herself.


	17. Chapter 16: Comrades

Chapter 16: Comrades

The night was humid and warm in Chihuahua, Mexico. The carcasses of sectoids and floaters littered the asphalt of the car park in front of a local bar &amp; grill. The battle between Earth's defense forces and the alien invaders had been a short and brutal one. The XCOM squad deployed onto the field had swept through the urban battlefield, dispatching of the mixed force of aliens with ease.

"But did you wreck FOUR floaters with a single attack, Ding Dong?" Orgun boasted, leaning back on his bar stool.

Four operatives were seated on one side of the square bar counter in the middle of the building, their backs to a wall blown open into the temperate Mexican night. Scubaman turned to Kilroy, shaking his head. "Can you believe this guy? He was just blowing up all the cars again and dares brag about the collateral damage!" the Latino jested, drawing a dismissive wave from Orgun.

Kilroy gave the two boys an amused look and retorted, "Well either way, Foogle's still got this on lockdown. Eighteen kills thus far, that still leaves you one short Orgun."

Foogleman glanced at them from the end of the counter, commenting in an amused tone, "Goddammit Kilroy, I told you I don't give a shit about this stupid game."

Turning to her friend, Kilroy slammed her fist on the counter and replied with exaggerated fervor, "Well I care about it! There's no way our room is gonna lose to these oafs! And with Drake out of action it's our DUTY to keep the good fight going!"

Foogleman looked her friend in the eye, giving a dramatic sigh and resting her head against her hand, elbow propped on the counter. "Fine, eighteen kills it is. Foogle's amazing, praise the fembox, whoo", came the lackluster cheer from the scout, eliciting a snigger from Kilroy and smiles from the rascals.

Getting up and moving over to her friend, Kilroy placed both hands on the scout's shoulders from behind and said with a grin, "That's the spirit! We'll show these idiots who the real A-team are!"

Orgun spoke up from the other end of the counter, the jest gone from his voice, replaced with solidarity, "Even if you have Drake, at least we still got second place." Scubaman turned towards his friend, grabbing a hold of his shoulder with a smile.

Foogleman looked over her shoulder at Kilroy, both smiling in memory of their deceased friend. Turning her eyes towards the men, Kilroy let out a deep sigh and responded in a serene tone, "Yeah. I'll give you that one."

A moment of silence passed over the group of operatives as they honored the memory of their fallen comrade. Looking up towards the parking lot, Scubaman broke the silence with a lifted arm and a shouted greeting as he beckoned for Hunterhr to join them. The private had been getting his post operation briefing from the squad leader Medve, and the African-American responded with a raised hand, making his way over to the counter. Hunterhr was a quiet one, his face seemingly always in a gentle smile. Reaching the rest of the operatives, the man seated himself close to Foogleman.

Scubaman chatted up the rookie in his casual, friendly manner, "That was some good work Hunter! Snagged yourself your first X-ray, huh? Always a good way to end your first mission."

The dark-skinned man smiled, closing his eyes and giving a small nod in acknowledgment. Not minding the quiet response, Scubaman carried on cheerfully, "Where did you serve again before joining our brilliant xeno-slaying machine? I don't think I ever asked you."

Hunterhr took a contemplative breath, giving his chin a gentle rub. After what seemed almost too long a pause to respond, he turned to Scubaman and answered, "I was a medic in the UN peacekeeping corps before enlisting into a humanitarian aid group working in the Democratic Republic of Congo."

With a lift of his eyebrows, Scubaman let out a surprised whistle and Orgun next to him leaned on the counter, commenting enthusiastically, "Wow, that takes some serious balls. I hear that place is pretty fucked up." Foogleman and Kilroy uttered their agreement and Hunterhr just smiled a little, nodding his head in acknowledgment of the praise.

Amidst the chatter, Medve made his way over from the parking lot, the other rookie on the op, JBowles, following closely behind. Foogleman turned towards the lieutenant, offering her knuckles up to the gunner, "Another smooth op big man. Good job leading the charge."

Medve gave the scout's knuckles a bump and smiled at the praise. They'd been fighting side-by-side since day one and the amount of operations they'd gone on together was already lost to the lieutenant. Foogleman had become the officer's go-to right-hand gal on the field, always giving it her everything and ever reliable.

The squad spent the remaining few minutes chatting the night away, waiting for the Council's clean-up crew to arrive. It wasn't a long wait, and in good company, the time seemed to pass by almost too quickly.


	18. Chapter 17: Girl talk

Chapter 17: Girl talk

Cheerful laughter and jeering filled the air at the barracks. Awo stumbled out of his room and into the corridor, turning around and shouting back into the room, "Goddamn it, why can he stay? He's got a dick the same as me!" The man was gesturing at Kungtotte, the sniper looking up from his book with a grin, lying down in his bunk above Foogleman's with his headphones on.

"He's also a gentleman and not a pig like you!" came the cheerful response from Merlin, the temperamental woman standing in the middle of the room with hands on her hips, leaning forwards with a sneer on her face. The jeer was followed by laughter from the rest of the girls in the room: Drake, Foogleman and Kilroy.

Awo shook his head, turning away and starting down the corridor, muttering under his breath, "Every day with this goddamn shit..."

Multiple shouts followed the man out into the corridor as the girls piled on: he's married, he showers every day, he respects the rules of the room, he appreciates us, he doesn't have ridiculously high impressions of himself... and so on.

With the man finally exiled out of the room, Merlin slammed the door shut and jumped on her bunk. It was located close to the door and below Awo's. Kungtotte's and Foogleman's bunk bed was next in line, with Drake's and Kilroy's located towards the back of the room. On the opposing wall, six closets lined the wall and at the very back of the room a simple wooden table stood against the wall, with two chairs on each of the three sides.

"You don't suppose we were too hard on him?" inquired Drake, propped up against the wall in her bottom bunk.

Merlin let out a sharp bark of a laugh, crossing her arms behind her head. "That guy? Please, he's gonna have more fun with the boys anyway, we just did him a favor!" the fiery woman responded, dismissing Drake's concerns.

Kilroy leaned over the edge of her bunk, her tone excited, "Come on over Merlin, I can barely see you from here! Let's get started."

The Mexican crossed over, Foogleman pulling her feet up without taking her eyes off the magazine she was eyeing, making room for the infantrywoman. Merlin laid herself down across the bunk, propping her chin up by her hands.

Kilroy got into a sitting position, legs dangling down over the edge of her bunk. Crossing her arms across her legs and leaning forwards, the woman proclaimed, "Okay, let's begin! First up, Wolfer. How hot is he, scale of one to ten, at least one reason. Go Drake!"

The exotic assault mused for a moment before speaking up, "I'd say a solid seven. Great biceps, nice ass and a strong chin, though his face leaves a lot to be desired."

Kilroy and Merlin responded with approving nods, Kilroy picking up after her friend, "I'd reckon a seven as well. Definitely dat ass that does it."

Merlin let out a small boo, unimpressed by the safe answer. "He's totally an eight. Those muscles, ah! To die for. And haven't you seen his confidence? Now that's how a REAL man acts, none of this namby-pamby bullshit you see these days!" the Mexican proclaimed.

Kilroy uttered approvingly, nodding her head along. Turning to Foogleman, she inquired, "What about you, Foogs?"

The woman closed her magazine, laying it down on her chest. Giving her friend an unimpressed look, the scout commented, "You're all fucking retarded."

The three others exclaimed in disapproval and surprise, Kilroy laying it on the scout, "Goddammit Foogle! You promised you'd play with us!"

Foogleman looked around the three women with hard eyes before finally saying, "I told you, you're all retarded! He's at MOST a four. Just a big hunk of meat, what's exciting about that?"

Foogleman's face turned into a smug grin as the rest of the women exploded into laughter, Drake exclaiming from the midst of it, "Ooooooh damn! Foogs is laying down the law!"

The conversation bounced back and forth, from evaluating other male operatives to female operatives, how much everyone wanted to get some R&amp;R out of the base, where they'd go, what they'd do, what necessities the base lacked and so on. Through it all, Kungtotte kept his eyes on his novel, turning up the volume on his iPod a bit to hear as little of the conversation as possible, always the gentleman. Finally the conversation settled on the game of marry, fuck, kill.

"Okay so here's one for you", mused Drake while combing her hair. "Scuba, Medve and Awo", the assault concluded, drawing _ooohs_ and _aaahs _from the rest of the girls as they pondered their choices.

Foogleman was the first to answer, "Fuck Awo, shoot Scuba and marry Medve." Kilroy raised her voice, demanding for a follow up on the answer. Mulling her tongue around in her mouth, Foogleman added, "Medve is reliable and there's no way I'd give Scuba the satisfaction of fucking him, so I guess that leaves the only option to shoot him." The others responded with laughs and giggles, Merlin taking up the mantle next.

"Marry Scuba, shoot Medve and fuck the everlasting fuck out of Awo!" she exclaimed cheerfully, drawing more laughter and exclamations of surprise from her friends.

"Oh wow, you really wanna do him huh?" laughed Kilroy, Merlin dismissing the assault with a wave of a hand and a smiling shake of her head.

"What about you, 'Roy?" came the inquiry from Drake, leaning over from her bunk to glance at her friend upstairs.

Kilroy rubbed her shoulders pensively, wheeling her head back and forth while making indecisive noises. "Marry Medve, kill Awo and fuck Scuba", the woman finally answered, drawing laughs from the other women.

"She actually wants to do him! Look at her face, she wants a piece of _el Zorro_!" Merlin taunted, laughing ever harder, tears rising to her eyes.

Kilroy blushed a little bit, raising her arms up and defending herself, "Hey, maybe I'm a little bit curious okay? But it's not gonna happen, that'd make things hella weird!"

As if on cue, a knock came from the door, followed by the voice of the very person in question, "Ding dong! Anybody home?" The door pushed open, and Scubaman stepped into the room with a smile on his face.

All of the girls wheeled around, their voices exploding in a cacophony of denials to enter the room and orders to get the hell out. All except Merlin, who was holding onto her stomach and howling with laughter. Scubaman glanced around the room with a truly perplexed smile on his face.

Kilroy threw the first pillow. It was soon followed by Drake's hair brush and a shoe, and then another one, and soon the Latino was under fire by every single small object the girls had access to.

Scubaman's expression turned panicky, his lower lip trembling a little as he muttered in a pitiful voice, "B-but…_el Zorro_…"

Merlin's laughter intensified, the woman shaken by violent convulsions as Foogleman jumped up, sending her magazine fruitlessly flapping at the man, screaming, "Not this Zorro shit again! Get the hell out Scuba!"

The man wheeled around, lifting his arms up as he fled the room, crying like a baby. Foogleman dashed up to the door, slamming it shut and leaning back against it, laughing at the absurdity of the situation.

The floor was littered with all sorts of items and the other girls were positively howling with laughter, Merlin having fallen down from the bunk, now rolling on the floor. Kilroy looked equal parts embarrassed and amused as tears ran down her cheeks, and Drake had her face buried in her hands as she tried to calm down.

Foogleman took a deep breath, calming herself down and remarked with a voice still slightly shaking with amusement, "Well, where were we?"


	19. Chapter 18: Inside

Chapter 18: Inside

Renzol sat on her bunk, feet on the ground and back straight, resting her hands on her knees. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was steady, deep in meditation. The operation had gone smoothly, a small crashed UFO in India and rookie Petete had been the only one to take a light wound from a seeker. Regardless, Renzol wasn't about to let go of her new-found habits that easily. Stability is key.

Going through the contact they'd had on the mission, Renzol visualized the situations in her mind. Did I need to fire a rocket here? Did I need to react differently? Where could I improve? She ran the different scenarios through in her mind, coming to the realization the mission had gone about as smoothly as it possibly could, though there was always room for improvement in the small things, such as faster reaction times and improved accuracy.

Turning her attention to her feelings, Renzol observed the emotions inside. She was calm. She was collected. Letting out a deep breath she thought to herself, _nothing to put in the Box._ Opening her eyes, the small rocketeer stretched her neck and shoulder muscles, slowly rolling her head around. As it so often did, the meditation made her think back to that night at the martial arts room.

She had helped Sergeant Foogleman with her sparring deep into the night. The scout's words had been true: she definitely hadn't held back, and every muscle in Renzol's body had been sore by the end of it. They hadn't talked much, but as the sergeant had been getting ready to take her leave, Renzol had asked her something.

"_How do I become strong?"_

Foogleman had given the rocketeer an appraising look. The scout had thought long and hard about her answer, before finally telling Renzol this: _"You have to find out for yourself. If you're asking how to become like me, then I can't help you. I've always been like this, ever since I can remember. My father was an abusive drunk and when you go through enough shit in life, you steel yourself against it. It's become part of who I am, and I'm okay with it. I've had people call me a cold bitch and a heartless cunt and many other things but it's all part of me now. I couldn't tell you how it happened even if I tried. I've got no answers for you, Renzol. You'll have to figure it out for yourself."_

And so Renzol had begun meditating. The start had been tentative and fruitless, and giving up had seemed so easy. But little by little, the small rocketeer had grown with her daily exercises. It hadn't been much, but it had been something. And then she had found the Box.

It had been another night of despair and anguish as the faces of her fallen comrades and friends had haunted her. Renzol had tried to calm herself down through meditation and after hours of sitting still, she had visualized the Box. Into the Box, she had poured everything. The feelings of inadequacy, the feelings of helplessness, the sorrow of loss and all of her weaknesses. It had left her calm, and sleep had finally come.

After that, she had visualized the Box every day. The stored feelings always returned, but with less pain. And with every passing day, those returning feelings were fainter and fainter.

Sometimes she worried about the Box bursting open one day and drowning her in everything that was inside. But then she put that feeling in the Box. Sometimes she giggled at the absurdity of the notion. How many fears of the Box bursting open had she put in the Box? Did it contain dozens of those emotions, or was it always the same one that just got out?

Returning from her musings, Renzol got up with a relieved sigh. Checking her watch, she noted that it was almost time to get to her training. She'd asked Orgun to give her extra live explosive training during the evening. The boisterous rocketeer had been reluctant, muttering something about his plans for the night. However, Renzol had insisted and the man had agreed, his plans apparently not that important after all. Renzol smiled at the memory of that small victory. Not so long ago, she wouldn't have had the guts to ask him let alone insist.

Moving to her closet through the empty room, Renzol got to packing her bag for all of the training gear she would need. The war was long, and one doesn't get better simply by lying around.


	20. Chapter 19: Battlestar

Chapter 19: Battlestar

Daishi strode into her room with DSM on her heels. The South African scout had been waiting for her friend in the hangar bay following her return from the operation in Beijing. It may have been a regular abduction mission, but many of the operatives still often stood in waiting as their closest friends were returning from missions.

"Yeah, poor Volatile. She just got out of medbay and the plasma burn seemed pretty bad. She'll probably be out for a long time again", Daishi told her friend in a sympathetic voice, walking over to her closet and digging around in her pockets for the keys. The weapons and armor used in the combat operations were kept in the arsenal next to the Skyranger hangar bay, but the rest of their personal gear the operatives still stored in their own rooms. Getting to work on unpacking her bag, Daishi continued chatting with her friend.

"What's been going on around the barracks while we were gone?" the tall woman inquired while stuffing her gear into the closet.

DSM leaned against her own closet next to Daishi's, running a hand through her dark hair and responding, "Oh, not much. Renzol's been out training all day again, you barely see her these days. Also there's been some rumors about new recruits arriving at the base in the coming days, so I guess that's something. Wonder if we'll have somebody taking Atlanton's old bunk."

Looking up from her task at hand, Daishi gave her friend a dubious look, "We have new people coming in and you say not much is going on? Dang, what is wrong with you?"

The South African shrugged dismissively before answering in a nonchalant tone, "It's just a rumor I heard off of Scuba, so I wouldn't put much faith in it."

Shaking her head a bit, Daishi remarked, "Whatever you say."

"So, what's the plan for tonight?" inquired DSM, sticking her hands in her pockets.

Putting away the last of her things, Daishi grabbed the bag containing her bathing gear along with a clean tank top and underwear off the shelf. "I'll go take a drink with the squad and probably join the boys for some cards and TV since they asked so nicely", Daishi answered, closing her closet and turning towards her friend.

"The boys? What, you mean Instinct and Wolfer? Are you really sure they're your type of people? I bet they'll just try to get in your pants", DSM responded doubtfully, her brow furrowing as she looked her friend in the eye.

Daishi let out a cheerful little laugh, patting her shorter friend on the shoulder. "It's nice of you to worry about me, but it'll be fine. They're nice people. I'm sure you can come too if you want to watch over me", she responded with a wide smile on her lips.

DSM glanced away from under her brow, muttering in a low voice, "Nice people, yeah right. You wouldn't know nice people if somebody hit you in the face with them. Not everybody is like you, Daishi. You'll manage to get yourself in trouble sooner or later."

The tall woman cocked her hip to the side and regarded her friend with an amused look, lecturing her in a gentle tone, "We have to believe in each other in these difficult times, dear. You should try having a little bit more faith in people yourself. Just try it, you might be pleasantly surprised."

Daishi gave her friend a pat on the shoulder and uttered a goodbye, striding towards the door ready to take her shower. DSM rolled her eyes and muttered "_whatever"_ under her breath, turning towards her own bunk and the half-finished thriller novel she had lying on top of her pillow.

* * *

"No, no, no. You see, the Cylon aren't aliens. WE made them, and they returned to wipe mankind out as revenge for the Cylon war. Or well, kinda yes and no but that's getting WAY ahead of things. Geez, did you even pay any attention? How could you think they were aliens? What is wrong with you?"

The frantic complaints of Vherid filled the air in the corridor as people were returning to their rooms from the TV-room. Wolfer was the target of the sniper's relentless assault, the big man shaking his head with an incredulous look on his face.

Turning to Instinct and Daishi, the assault pointed a thumb at Vherid's direction and remarked, "Can you believe this guy? What is he even saying? Those were alien robots if I've ever seen alien robots."

Instinct wiped a hand over his face in embarrassment and Daishi let out a bright little laugh. Turning to his roommate, the dark-skinned assault spoke up through a thick yet perfectly understandable African accent, "You're an idiot Wolfer. Maybe if you'd spent more time focused on the show when there wasn't shit blowing up you'd realize just what an idiot you are."

Wolfer rolled his arms around, loud popping emanating from his shoulders as he dismissed the comment, "Yeah, whatever. It's the last time I let jedi-boy here decide what we watch."

Vherid gave the man an unimpressed look and opened his mouth ready to correct the man on his sci-fi, but settled on a deep sigh and a shake of his head. Daishi bent over at the waist, looking at Vherid on the far-end of their line of four people and spoke up, "I think it was interesting. I'd gladly watch the TV-show as well, you said that was just a pilot miniseries?"

Vherid's face lit up, smiling back at the scout. "Yeah, there's four seasons and seventy-five episodes. And some horrible movies that you don't need to know about. Isn't there always?"

Instinct gave Wolfer's bicep a sharp jab, joining the defense, "I thought it was good as well. Stop your complaining."

Wolfer gave his shorter roommate a poisonous stare and stuck his hands in his pockets, continuing down the corridor in silence. Coming to their room, Daishi and Vherid waved the two assaults good-bye and stepped into the open room, pulling the door closed behind them.

DSM glanced up from her novel, speaking up in a snarky tone, "So which one had the battle with your pants? Don't tell me both."

Daishi brushed up her hair with one hand and placed the other on her mouth, giggling in amusement. Vherid walked past her, answering DSM in her stead, "Wolfer was a complete douche, as expected." The sniper climbed up to his top bunk at the end of the room, digging a fantasy novel from under his pillow. DSM turned her gaze back to Daishi, lifting her eyebrows in a what-did-I-tell-you fashion.

With an amused voice Daishi spoke up, lifting her arms in a defensive gesture, "Oh come on, it wasn't that bad. I had fun! That's what counts right?" DSM grinned and nodded along with her friend, vocalizing her agreement in an over-the-top manner.

Vherid propped himself against the wall, commenting, "He also managed to completely miss the point of one of the greatest sci-fi shows ever made. I mean, I guess he at least kept his eyes on something that made it worth it." Daishi cocked her head to the side, smiling at the flattery and responding with an "_oh you". _Vherid grinned and turned his eyes to the novel.

Daishi walked over to DSM and started explaining in an excited tone, "But hey, the show was actually really good! DSM, you should've come along after all! So it's like hundreds of years into the future…" Daishi's excited voice filled the room as she recounted the plot of the show, DSM listening intently and Vherid chiming in to offer his expertise every once in a while.


	21. Chapter 20: Beyond the stars

Chapter 20: Beyond the stars

The XCOM emergency response squad walked into the Skyranger hangar through the arsenal door. Drake slung her arms around the shoulders of Kilroy and Foogleman, exclaiming joyfully, "Finally the girls get to go on a mission together! I've been waiting for this FOREVER 'Roy!"

Kilroy smiled a little, turning to look at her friend. "We'll show those bastards what the top assaults of XCOM can do, sister!"

Foogleman was shaking her head, a smile creeping to her lips. "It's a large landed UFO girls. Don't get cocky like those jerks over there", the scout remarked, gesturing with her head towards the pair in front of them.

Descending the steps to the Skyranger landing pad, Scubaman and Orgun were cheerfully chanting 99 bottles of beer on the wall, though instead of bottles of beer they were singing of alien crafts. Beyond them, Medve and Iku were standing in front of the Skyranger, waiting for the rest of the squad to make their way over.

Descending the stairs, the girls reached the rest of the gang. They all gathered into a circle, placing their arms over each other's shoulders. Medve took a deep breath before speaking up, "You're the best of the best people. Let's bring this baby home, it's what Frag would've wanted."

The leader's words were followed by cheers and exclamations of encouragement from the rest of the operatives. Breaking away from the circle, the soldiers made their way into the aircraft, taking their familiar places.

* * *

As soon as the blast signaling a launched rocket rang in the afternoon air, Foogleman jumped up. Her combat boots sent gushes of soil and grass into the air as she sprinted across the field littered with gazelle carcasses and stasis pods, dodging plasma fire from the outsiders and floaters on the other side, drawing fire as her squad moved up to support their leader.

Medve was cursing loudly behind one of the pods, a massive plasma burn in his left shoulder. A red line of energy punched past the scout as Iku hit his mark, one of the outsiders exploding into a cloud of dust, scattering into the afternoon winds.

Foogleman slid the last few meters into cover behind a stasis pod, plasma barrages beating the ground around her. Taking aim, she fired her laser rifle at the flanked outsider, the creature recoiling away from the fight as the high-energy pierced its crystalline body. Drake crashed into cover next to her, the assault pulling her laser pistol and finishing the creature off.

Turning her attention to the next enemy, Foogleman witnessed the arrival of reinforcements for the enemy. Four seekers appeared from under the shadows of the massive maw of the alien ship, disappearing from her sights as they cloaked themselves.

A scream from next to her pulled Foogleman's eyes away from the enemy. Drake collapsed into a heap behind the pod, a massive plasma burn in her chest. The assault was gasping desperately for air while letting out a small whimper in pain. More plasma whizzed past their heads as the entrenched enemy pinned them down, smelling blood.

"Fall back! I've got Medve, get the hell outta there girls!" came the shout of Scubaman from further back.

Foogleman turned to Drake, grabbing her friend by the shoulder. The sounds of battle were blasting all around them, and Foogleman leaned in to shout in her friend's ear, "I'll draw the fire for you Drake, get back to Scuba and Medve! You're not going to die for this piece of shit ship you hear me?" Not waiting for an answer the scout jumped up, dashing hard along the farmfield-turned-battlefield.

Pressing her head down, Foogleman ran as fast as she could, shifting her weight from side to side, moving towards the small grove of trees where Kilroy was holding off two floaters by herself. The scout felt a barrage of plasma whirr by behind her head, and another one just in front of her. Then she felt the sizzling-hot impact, and with a surprised grunt she lost her balance, crashing into the dirt field.

Desperately holding onto her laser rifle, Foogleman put the momentum of her fall into a roll, tumbling inelegantly forwards on the ground. Another plasma barrage hit the ground just behind her, sending a torrent of dirt and soil into the air. Even as the wound burned in her side, Foogleman pounced to her feet and dashed the last few meters into the grove, diving behind one of the trees.

"God-fucking-dammit!" came the shout from Kilroy as a floater barreled into cover behind a tree close to her, glancing the assault with a salvo of plasma.

Taking cover behind her own tree, Kilroy pulled an HE grenade from her belt and tossed it at the floater, pressing her back against the trunk. Splinters of wood came flying at Foogleman as she ducked her head down, the floater screaming in muffled pain, still alive.

"I've got you!" Foogleman shouted to Kilroy, pulling a flashbang from her rigging and tossing it at the floater.

Disoriented from the explosion, the alien took off into the air, jets blazing in full force as it launched across the sky. Three other floaters and the last remaining outsider came up towards them from the direction of the ship, their plasma carbines scorching the tree Kilroy was hiding behind. The assault's face was twisted into a grimace as she squeezed her eyes shut, splinters flying in the air around her.

_I've got to help her,_ the thought rang in Foogleman's mind and without a moment's hesitation, the dauntless scout took off from behind her tree, squeezing everything she had out of her thighs. The aliens wheeled their carbines around to the easier target, plasma striking the trees around her. As soon as Foogleman left her cover Kilroy steeled herself, rushing towards the enemy.

The assault fired her shotgun on the run, disintegrating the last outsider into glitter in the air. Taking cover behind a half-burnt tree trunk, Kilroy saw a floater swoop in on her. With a primal battle cry, the woman unleashed a shot at the flying enemy, smashing its distorted face in and dropping it to the ground. A laser blast sizzled through the air as Scubaman covered for Kilroy, causing one of the floaters to take off uncontrollably, the jets propelling the creature up into the air before wheeling it around, crashing the alien to the ground.

"More seekers! FUCK ME CHRYSSALIDS!" the shout of Orgun carried to Foogleman's ears from the other side of the battlefield.

The last remaining floater was pinning Kilroy behind her tree trunk, and Foogleman closed the bad news of Orgun from her mind. _They'll have to deal with it themselves, there's nothing I can do._ Shouldering her laser rifle from behind the tree she was using for cover, Foogleman took a shot at the floater. The strike hit and the alien cowered, hiding behind an overturned log. Kilroy took off instantly, jumping into the top of the log and spraying the creature's brains out onto the field.

"Kilroy look out!" Foogleman cried as three sectoids scampered towards her position from the alien ship, a drone flying in behind them.

The assault dashed towards a large rock in front of her, stopping in her tracks as she crashed into thin air. The seeker became visible as it lost its cloaking, wrapping its tentacles around the woman, crushing at her throat.

Clenching her teeth together Foogleman moved up, taking cover behind the burnt tree trunk. The interface of her laser rifle indicated only one shot left in the energy cell. Foogleman squinted her eyes as she aimed past her friend's head. Pulling the trigger, she smelted the circuits inside the seeker's mechanical brain.

A low humming filled the air around Foogleman, her eyes widening as she reached for a new energy cell. Black tentacles closed around her as a seeker descended upon her from behind, pushing her arms against her sides and squeezing around her throat. A pitiful whimper left Foogleman's throat as the creature pushed the air out of her lungs, the scout looking helplessly on towards the battle Kilroy was facing.

The drone came in hard, supported by the plasma fire the sectoids were sending in the assault's direction. With one hand on her throat, Kilroy gasped for air. She propped her shotgun against the rock she was hiding behind with one hand, firing at the mechanical flier. The buckshot burrowed into the sensors on the front, frying the circuits inside and dropping the robot out of the air. The assault turned around and Foogleman saw the determination in her friend's eyes as she took off from behind her cover, plasma whizzing past her head.

Kilroy took aim over Foogleman's head, and the scout stared her friend in the eye, refusing to close her eyes. As the muzzle flashed, she instinctively winced. The tentacles loosened around her as the seeker let her go of its grasp. Crashing forwards, Foogleman heard Kilroy scream she had no ammo. Foogleman tried to tell her to go, but she could only muster up a pitiful gasp. As if reading her mind, the assault wheeled around as she dashed back into cover from the sectoids, reloading her shotgun frantically.

Foogleman spun around on the ground, pulling her sidearm. The seeker was floating in the air above her, and the scout took aim with a trembling hand. She fired her pistol at the creature, the bullets clinking harmlessly against its metallic carapace.

"Die! Just fucking die! Why won't you die?" the scout shouted, but only a quiet, gasping whisper left her throat. The pistol in her hand clicked as the last round had left the magazine. Foogleman stared at the enemy, a thought coming to her mind.

_I'm ready._

The seeker's muzzle flashed green, striking Foogleman down.

* * *

From a million miles away, Foogleman heard the sounds of battle. She was enveloped in complete darkness. Her body was heavy, but not painful. It was like she was hanging on by a thread, anchored into the ground by her bruised and beaten carcass.

A ray of light shone on her face, and she observed with quiet wonder as a shape emerged from the light.

"What's this? Lying around was never like you Foogle", a familiar voice spoke, its tone soft and slightly amused. The figure stretched out a hand and in awe, Foogleman reached upwards.

The phantom grabbed onto her, and she grabbed onto him. With combat gloved hands locked together, her friend lifted Foogleman from the ground. Leaving her beaten and broken body behind, she felt the thread snap. She felt light; she felt free.

And so she rose up, up, ever upwards into the sky, ascending far beyond the stars.

* * *

The operatives were gathered around the break room. Everyone was present. The new recruits Jive, Hawkeye, Morgan, Doubleumc, Burncycle and Wootastic were standing near the door, faces solemn in respect of the woman they had barely known. People were sitting at the counter, facing into the room rather than the bar. Operatives lined the walls: some sitting and others standing up.

In the lounge part of the room, the armchairs and sofas were all taken. Kilroy and Drake were curled up in one of the armchairs. Drake had refused to stay in the medbay, and she had a blanket wrapped around herself over her patient's gown.

Scubaman and Orgun were sitting in adjacent armchairs, quietly arguing over which one had gotten their ass beaten more soundly by Foogleman in squash. Both were trying to claim the honor for themselves.

On the wall above the memorial table, a new picture had been added to those of Frag's, Toothcake's, Atlanton's and Ballystix's: a picture of Foogleman with a wide grin on her face, arms slung over Drake's and Kilroy's shoulders.

Medve spoke up, lifting a glass of bourbon, "To Foogleman. Most reliable of soldiers and a hell of a woman." Others joined the toast, and people drank to the memory of their deceased comrade.

Orgun and Scuba finally settled the score, and Orgun proposed the next toast, "To Foogle! XCOM's queen of the squash court!" People joined the toast once more, many smiling in memory of the defeat they had been handed by the woman.

Daishi walked up to the jukebox in the corner of the room with DSM in tow, gesturing for her friend to get started. Turning to the room, the scout raised her voice, "Excuse me everyone, may I have your attention please?" The quiet chatter around the room died down, everyone turning to look at the tall woman.

"I respected Sergeant Foogleman. She was my trainer and a true role model when it came to work as a scout, but I know she was so much more to some people in this room. I just want to tell all of you: we will see her again. In my heart, I know it to be true. So please everyone, have faith. I know this might sound silly to some, but I just know it to be true." Turning to look at DSM, Daishi received a thumbs-up from her friend.

"I would like to honor Foogle's memory through song. Please, don't think ill of me for doing so." Daishi crossed her fingers, hanging her hands low in front of her. Her back and shoulders were straight, and she closed her eyes, waiting for the music to start. DSM hit the button on the jukebox and slunk into the corner, sitting down and pulling her knees up to her chest.

The serene notes of a guitar echoed from the jukebox as last autumn's hit _Paper Boats_ started up. Daishi opened her eyes and looked over the faces of the people in the room. With a clear and strong voice filled with emotion, she sang the song, hitting every single note perfectly, even the ones that reached high into the skies.

The people in the room listened quietly. Renzol was sitting in a simple wooden chair, her back straight. Her eyes were red, but the tears hadn't come. The expression on her face was blank, eyes staring off into the distance.

Over on the other side, Scubaman was leaning back into his armchair. One leg was stretched out in front of him and the man had his eyes closed, head resting against the chair. Next to him Orgun was doubled over, face buried in his hands.

Medve was standing up, staring into the ceiling above. A massive amount of gauze ran over his left shoulder and across his unclad chest. The big man's brow was furrowed in sorrow, the cigar in his hand forgotten and burning away idly.

Merlin was sitting on a couch, her eyes red and tears welling in her eyes. Awo was lying down on the couch, his face buried in Merlin's lap. The woman was slowly caressing his buzz cut hair as the tears finally came.

Iku and Kungtotte were sitting next to each other. Iku had his head hanging low, hands grasping at his temples. The expression on his face was pained as he stared into the floor. Kungtotte had a hand placed on his back, gently consoling his friend. The South African seemed calm, but his eyes spoke of a deep sorrow.

On one of the armchairs, Drake stirred against Kilroy's shoulder. The wounded assault was curled up into a ball, tears running down her cheeks. Her face was twisted into a mask of sorrow as she sobbed pitifully against her friend's shoulder.

Taking a stuttering breath, she whispered in a voice fuzzy with sorrow and pain medication, choking on the words, "I miss her, 'Roy. I miss her so much."

Squeezing her eyes shut, tears fell down Kilroy's cheeks. She turned her face towards the ceiling and gently caressed Drake's hair, speaking in a trembling voice, "I know, sister. I know."

Daishi sang her song, and the people inside listened, honoring the memory of their fallen comrade. Their fallen friend. Their fallen sister.


	22. Chapter 21: Salt and vinegar

Chapter 21: Salt and vinegar

Gunfire filled the range as several XCOM operatives practiced their shooting skills. Due to the limited availability of laser weaponry, most of the practice was still done with ballistic weapons.

Renzol was firing the MP7 submachine gun at the alien-shaped target down the range, the gunshots partially drowned out by her earmuffs. The weapon behaved completely differently to the laser shatterray when it came to firing, but getting a feel for the shorter SMG model of weapon was important. After all, taking aim, reacting to enemies and being comfortable with a certain type of weapon in your hands were all just as important as simply pulling the trigger.

Firing the last of the bullets in the magazine, Renzol hit the button on the table. The floater-shaped target slid along the railing and came to a stop in front of the small rocketeer. Seeing the results, Renzol let out a sharp curse and tore the target sheet down, replacing it with another one. Slamming her hand on the button, the target returned to its original position.

Renzol reached for another magazine on her right and noticed Wolfer, who was practicing on the range next to her, stare at her with an amused look on his face. Renzol gave the man a sharp stare from under her brow before grabbing the magazine and turning her attention back to the target. She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. She needed to calm down, else the target would return with such poor results once again.

Over the last week, Renzol had noticed a new trend in her behavior. It had started subtly, but was becoming more and more apparent to everyone in the base. She hated failure. Not so long ago, before she had started her meditation, she would shrug off shortcomings during training without giving it much thought. Now, she couldn't stand it. She knew she could do better, and sub-par performances irritated her to no end. Other soldiers around the base had been noticing it as well as she had started snapping at people during co-operative training.

She had tried putting the anger and irritation into the Box, but it was of no use. The emotions emerged so impulsively she couldn't control them, and most of the time they also disappeared just as quickly. But not always. Sometimes her mood would be rotten for the remainder of the day, and sometimes you just didn't have time for meditation.

Renzol shook her head and slammed the magazine into her weapon. At least she wasn't huddled in a corner somewhere, crying over how she couldn't do anything. If this was what it meant to be strong, she would take it over what she had been any day.

Shouldering the SMG, Renzol focused on the target. She fired in rapid bursts, one after the other, relentlessly. Lowering her gun, she had a better feeling about this round. Tapping the button, she observed approvingly as the floater slid towards her. Some of the bullets had missed, but most of the bursts had stayed on target, forming neat pockets of holes in the cardboard. Taking down the target, Renzol tossed it in the trash and started gathering her gear from the table, done for the day.

* * *

Renzol grabbed her tray from the counter, her plate filled with lasagna and salad with a sandwich on the side. Turning over, she scanned the cafeteria for a place to sit in. Noticing the people of the operation squad from this morning at the end of one of the long tables, she headed over. The South Africans Cell and DSM were sitting at the end of the table with Hypergeek and Wolfer next to them. Only Awo was missing, and Renzol headed for the empty seat across from Hunterhr.

Wolfer grinned as he noticed the approaching rocketeer, whispering something to Hypergeek, drawing a grin out of the engineer and the big assault let out a loud laugh himself. Wolfer followed her arrival across the room with his eyes, smirking in anticipation.

As Renzol arrived at the table, the man shouted his greeting, "Hey there Renzol! Just a warning about that lasagna, they really should've used more salt on it. Oh wait, sorry. I'm sure you brought plenty of your own!"

The man burst into bellowing laughter at his own jest, Hypergeek shaking his head in amusement. The women at the end of the table grinned, entertained by both the gibe and the man's over-the-top reaction to his own humor. Hunterhr had his trademark smile on his lips, glancing up from his plate to nod a greeting at the rocketeer. Renzol regarded the people at the table with a dubious look, laying her tray down and sitting down across from Hunterhr and next to Hypergeek.

"What?" the small rocketeer inquired, brow furrowed in suspicion as she regarded Wolfer.

The man settled down in his chair and turned to Renzol, lifting a massive arm and speaking in his loud voice, "Oh come on! Like you don't get it. That was a great joke, what with you being so salty all the time." The man's jaw dropped and eyes widened as he realized the opportunity. Throwing his head back and letting out another bellow of a laugh, the man exclaimed to everyone in the cafeteria, "Salty Renzol! That might just be the best thing I've ever come up with!"

DSM rolled her eyes at the end of the table, turning to Wolfer with an incredulous look on her face and Cell cut the man's laughter with a sharply spoken lecture, "Goddamn it Wolfer! Think before you open your stupid fucking mouth!" Hunterhr's smile had disappeared from his face, the medic looking at the man next to him with quiet disapproval, glancing over at Renzol.

Renzol looked towards the women, putting a hand up. "No, it's fine. Salty Renzol is it? That's fine by me. I could care less either way", the small rocketeer uttered, turning to look at Wolfer.

The man had a confused look on his face, not quite sure why the others hadn't joined his jest. Answering the assault's gaze for a moment, Renzol turned her attention to her food, thinking to herself:

_Salty Renzol, huh? I'm going to own that._


	23. Chapter 22: Vices

Chapter 22: Vices

Merlin was sitting on top of an overturned bucket, looking over the crashed UFO. Her laser rifle was resting across her lap, and she was taking deep drags off the cigarette held between her fingers. The barn on her left had acted as a trusty fortress for the XCOM squad assaulting the defenders of the UFO, and it looked almost stoic in the moonlit night.

The infantrywoman took another drag on her smoke, resting her head back and turning to face the huge full moon hanging low in the sky. It had been her first time in charge of a combat operation, and leading a squad of four rookies no less. The Lance Corporals Daishi and Zim had provided their support, and the mission had been completed by the numbers with no casualties.

Merlin stared into the night sky, enjoying the immense glimmer of the Milky Way stretched across the sky. The lights of the city did not pollute the air here, letting the universe spread itself out across the dark canvas of the night sky. Daishi walked towards her from the direction of the UFO, climbing up the short but steep ridge created by the small alien craft as it had plowed across the farmland, her boots sending small pebbles of rocks and soil spinning down the slope.

"Oh, I didn't know you smoked Merlin", came the greeting from the Canadian scout, a friendly smile on her lips.

Merlin took another drag on her cigarette and puffed the smoke out through her nose. In an uncharacteristically somber tone, she answered, "I was trying to quit. But what with all that's been going on…Foogle dying and before her, everyone else… you know, I just don't see the point. I might be dead any one of these days, it seems ridiculous to worry about lung cancer now."

Daishi came to a stop next to the sitting woman, turning to face towards the UFO as well. Regarding the night sky, her blonde ponytail swiveled slightly in the midnight winds. "Enjoy it while it lasts, huh? I can understand that, I think", the scout uttered, and Merlin turned to look at the operative on her side.

"You've never smoked?" inquired the Mexican, dropping the stub of her burnt-out cigarette to the ground and digging for her pack in the front pocket of her flak jacket. Sticking another one between her lips, she offered the pack up to Daishi.

The tall woman smiled down at her and shook her head in refusal, answering the question, "I wanted to become a singer when I was a teenager, so I never even wanted to try because of my voice. And afterwards, well, I didn't want to try because of health reasons and I just thought that's that. Am I missing much?"

Merlin let out a cynical cackle of a laugh, lighting up the cigarette before responding, "Not a damn thing. Only the ability to enjoy a beautiful moonlit night like this without a damn cigarette in your hand anymore." Silence followed as the two women enjoyed the sight before them, the stardust spreading itself over the dark shapes of the pine forest. The small forest fire caused by the crashed UFO had died down for the most part, with only a few patches of lingering flames flickering in the darkness.

Eventually, Merlin was the first to break the silence, speaking up in an apologetic tone, "I'm sorry I'm not being exactly whooping company."

Daishi glanced over at her, smiling gently and encouraging the downcast operative, "It's okay. We all have our ways of dealing with loss. You still gave it your best during the operation, that's what counts right?"

Merlin dropped the stub of her cigarette, giving it a small kick with her boot and wiping a hand over her face. Noisily, she spat out a gob of mucus the cigarette had loosened from her tracts. "Yeah, I suppose you're right. I guess I'll just have to take it out on mama's little Dumpling tonight", Merlin responded, an evil grin rising to her face.

Daishi gave the woman a look mixed with amusement and doubt. Speaking up, she voiced her concerns, "I hope you're not being too hard on Awo. He might have a hard time dealing with things himself."

Another sharp laugh rang in the night as Merlin dismissed Daishi's worries, getting up and slinging her laser rifle onto her back, "He acts like he doesn't like it, but I bet he gets more kicks out of getting abused than I do abusing him!"

Merlin took off, striding towards the ridge and the UFO, leaving a flabbergasted Daishi standing on her own. Pushing her head down, she wondered for a brief moment whether she actually understood Merlin at all. Looking up into the night sky once more, she took off after her squad leader.


	24. Chapter 23: Blunders and beginnings

Chapter 23: Blunders and beginnings

Zim stirred slightly in her bunk, muttering contently as she rolled over under the warm blankets. Her dark hair was spread out over the soft mound of pillows, and the woman fidgeted around a little in her slumber, digging deeper into the depths of the extra blankets she had piled on herself. Dreaming of dead sectoids and rapid-firing autolasers, the slightest of smiles rose to her lips. Turning over once more, her tongue smacked against her palate, letting out wet noises of pure contentment.

Her mind stirred a little, the woman in a hazy state between sleep and consciousness. It was good to have the day off. Even though it was forbidden for operatives to sleep out of their own bunks, Zim would always come to one of the empty rooms in the barracks when she was out of rotation. Having the entire room just for herself was a bliss she couldn't pass up, sleeping long past the time she would otherwise have.

Rolling over to her back, Zim laid her arms over her head, stretching out on the bunk with a blissful, almost orgasmic moan leaving her lips as her body stirred awake from its slumber. With eyes still closed, she enjoyed the warmth of the blankets for a while longer, lingering in her little nest. Even with summer approaching, the cold metal walls of the underground base could make for quite the chilly nights.

Arching her back and launching into another joyous stretch, Zim smacked her lips contently. It would soon be time to get up, but surely she could have just one more minute? Just one more minute of sleep, that's all. Rolling over to her side, the woman let out a small giggle as she buried deep into the mountain of blankets and pillows, curling up with just the tip of her nose peeking out. All settled down, she prepared to doze off.

Zim's eyes swung wide open as a cold lump suddenly materialized in the pit of her stomach. Turning to her back, the woman got to a sitting position, an inevitable feeling of dread rising deep inside her. _It's still Wednesday, right?_

The door to the room swung open, letting a cone of light into the darkness. A small figure stood in the doorway, peering into the room. "Zim! Is that you? We've been looking all over for you!" came the high-pitched scream of Squint as the scout dashed into the room, leaning over to look into the bottom bunk where Zim was residing at.

Pulling the blankets to cover her face, Zim muttered in a small voice from behind her shield, "Please tell me it's still Wednesday, Squint."

The PA system dinged, and the call for Lance Corporal Zim into the operation room rang inside the underground complex. Zim lowered the blanket and looked at Squint's face. The Polish woman was staring at her in disbelief, her light brown, almost blonde hair, framing a face with gentle features.

Closing her gaping mouth, Squint relayed the orders, "You need to get into the op room ASAP! There's been an alien terror attack in Durban and the squad's waiting for you. It's Thursday, Zim. You're on duty."

Zim bit into the top of the blanket, staring off into the distance with distraught eyes. Shaking her head, she let go of the blankets and tossed them to the side, jumping up from the bunk and running into the corridor in only her tank top and panties. Taking a hard left, she pushed her head down and sprang past the puzzled Vherid and Hypergeek. The command over the PA system repeated, and Zim cursed her heavy sleeper's gifts. She had been completely oblivious to the PA system in her slumber.

Coming to the end of the corridor, she kicked open the door to her room. Instinct jumped to a sitting position in his bunk, exclaiming in surprise, "Where the hell have ya been Zim?"

Bolting to her closet, Zim cut the man off with a heated "_not now!"_ Slamming the closet open, she grabbed her bag and started stuffing the necessary gear in. With the bag full, she threw it out into the corridor as she hastily pulled on a pair of socks and trousers, stuffing her feet into her heavy combat boots.

Jumping out into the corridor with her pants still around her ankles, the gunner grabbed her bag from the floor and threw it on her back. People in the hallway were staring at her, with all of the room doors open and filled with curious operatives looking on. Stumbling onwards, Zim struggled to pull on the pants, taking off into a frantic run while fiddling with her belt buckle.

At the end of the corridor, Daishi emerged from around the corner. Putting her hand up, she stopped Zim in her tracks. With a regretful look on her face, the scout spoke up, "They left without you, Zim."

The gunner's shoulders slumped and she dropped her bag to the floor. Looking up at Daishi, an ashamed grin rose on her lips as she replied, "I'm sure it'll be fine, right? I mean, what's the worst that could happen?"

The PA system came to life once again, the female voice summoning Lance Corporal Zim into the disciplinary office. Zim cowered from the voice, covering her face with her hands and muttering "_oh nein"_ under her breath.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAa

_Somewhere over Arizona_

Kilroy stared at the stack of papers in her hand, bumping slightly in the rough helicopter ride. She was wearing civilian clothes: a pair of blue jeans, a white T-shirt and a brown leather jacket. Her mid-length brown hair was running free, framing a face deep in contemplation. Thumbing through the files she had gone over multiple times already, Kilroy thought back to the night.

It had been the middle of the night when she had been stirred awake from her sleep, and by the commander's personal assistant, no less. In a hushed tone, the young man had told her to put her civilian clothes on and hurry to the commander's office. Kilroy had complied, moving quietly in the dark room as not to wake up her roommates.

The commander had seemed exhausted, a bottle of half-drunk soda forgotten on the side of his table. The light-blue glow of the dual monitors from his computer had illuminated a scrawny face covered in coarse stubble accompanied by considerable bags under his eyes. Looking up from the monitor, the man had greeted the saluting Kilroy, signaling for the sergeant to stand at ease.

"_What do you think of this, sergeant?"_ the commander had spoken, turning around a lap top on the table. The monitor had displayed a picture of a Caucasian male wearing a collared shirt, a suit's vest, a tie and a pair of khaki pants. The lower part of his face was covered by an orange and red bandanna, tied behind his neck bandit-style.

Kilroy had mulled her tongue around in her mouth in contemplation before answering, _"I see quite the dapper fellow in his thirties, with an effort to conceal his identity. What am I looking at, sir?"_

The commander had stared Kilroy in the eye, pulling a laser pistol from his desk's drawer and sliding it towards the assault. In an ominous tone, he had answered her question:

"_A terrorist."_

Coming back from her thoughts, Kilroy rolled up the stack of papers and slapped it against her hand. Pulling up the bag in her feet, she stuffed the files inside. There was no use going through them again: she knew the briefing inside-out.

It had been a hasty beginning to her first covert operation against the global terrorist organization EXALT, and the minimal information and briefing they had available had been delivered to her upon arrival in one of the Council's Pacific bases, located on a solitary island off the coast of the US. One of the XCOM base's Raven-type fighter jets had speeded her across to the island, and from there, her journey had continued via a speed-boat towards the coast of Arizona, US.

"EXALT", Kilroy muttered under her breath, tasting the word. An organization dedicated to undermining the operations of Earth's last line of defense in an attempt to gain alien technology and increased power for themselves? What could they be after? Some reports spoke of their "misguided" sympathies for the alien invaders, but at the same time, there were reports of EXALT and alien forces engaging in battle between each other as the terrorists looked to gain access to alien artifacts. Kilroy ran a hand through her hair, letting out a deep sigh.

In the afternoon light, the inconspicuous utility helicopter flew in low across the desert landscape of Southern Arizona, following along the crevice of the Gila River. Taking a turn right, the chopper diverted off the river's path, flying into the desert.

The pilot leaned out of the cockpit, shouting over the flapping of the rotor, "We're almost there. Prep for extraction."

Kilroy unbuckled her seatbelt, grabbed her shoulder bag and slung it across her chest. Double-checking her laser pistol was safely in its concealed holster under her armpit, she got up and grabbed onto the straps hanging from the railing in the ceiling of the chopper.

The helicopter came to a halt above an inconspicuous valley sheltered from all sides by small rises. Kilroy moved to the edge on the open side of the chopper, staring down into the ground. The landscape was tinted an orange hue, with cacti and other drought-tolerant small plants growing here and there. The only other passenger in the chopper, a nameless man wearing tactical rigging and desert camo came to her side, kicking a stack of rope down off the edge, leaving it hanging towards the ground.

"Good luck, whatever it is you are doing here", came the good-bye from the soldier.

Kilroy pulled a pair of aviator sunglasses from her jacket's pocket and slipped them on, followed by fingerless leather gloves. Turning to the man, she replied over the beating of the rotor, "Don't wish me luck. I hate it when people wish me luck."

Grinning at the platitude she'd got to use, special operative Kilroy got to her knees and slung her feet over the edge of the aircraft. Grabbing onto the rope, she grappled down, her satchel swinging in the air and her hair beaten around by the gusts created by the chopper.

Getting closer to firm ground, Kilroy jumped the last few meters, landing elegantly with a bend of her knee. Standing up in the midst of the helicopter-created sandstorm, she glanced up at the bird, the rope quickly disappearing into the interior of the aircraft as it veered off into the desert, retreating back a different way than where it had flied in at. Turning her attention to her now-peaceful surroundings, Kilroy observed the small valley. Rocks and bushes, with the occasional desert winds sending dust into the afternoon air.

Kilroy climbed up one of the sloping hillsides. Getting to the top, she turned around, eyeing the horizon. Not a soul in sight, with the fast-disappearing helicopter the only thing moving. Looking up towards the North, she could see the crevice of the Gila River in the distance. Letting out a deep breath, Kilroy clambered back down the slope, her sneaker-clad feet sending puffs of desert dust into the air.

Coming to the bottom, Kilroy headed towards a large rock in the center of the valley. Its shadow would provide some respite from the scorching May sun, and Kilroy squatted down against the rock, resting her back against its rough surface. Now all there was left to do was wait for the jeep.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Author's note: Because of the way the EXALT missions make absolutely no sense in real-life terms (comm hack? seriously? how am I gonna write that in!) I will modify them with a heavy hand. The discerning reader might even have noticed that I changed the location of the covert operation because, well, I felt like it :P But without further waffling, you can expect heavy focus on the actual process leading up to the retrieval of the data as special operative Kilroy channels the cool bad-assness of James Bond and the witty one-liners of ZX64.


	25. Chapter 24: The Cleaning lady

Chapter 24: The Cleaning lady

Drake was sitting in the back row of the auditorium, grimacing at the pain in her chest. The plasma burn had been deep and the shock and infections that had followed had left her immobile for days after the fateful landed abductor operation. The doctor estimated she would still be out for three weeks, but at least being able to get up and about was something. She was wearing comfortable sweat pants and a loose gown-like shirt provided by the medbay personnel.

Iku next to her turned over, eyeing the assault with a worried look on his face. "You okay?" the Japanese sniper whispered and Drake lifted a hand in response, nodding through a pained grimace. Signaling towards the silver screen and the commander himself giving the briefing, Drake urged Iku to turn his attention back to the matter at hand.

On the screen a slide show was being projected. It concerned the new threat XCOM was now facing: a terrorist group called EXALT. The commander was wrapping up what had been an hour long briefing on the new enemy. "As we learn more, you can expect additional briefings as per usual. The briefing is over, but every soldier designated to the assault class, stay behind for further orders", came the conclusion from the commander.

The operatives stood up, streaming out of the auditorium through the doors located at the front and back. Drake leaned back in her seat, letting out a deep sigh as her thoughts turned to Kilroy. _I hope she's alright._

Wolfer, Instinct and Morgan stayed behind in addition to Drake. The commander spoke up, notifying the assaults of the new program, "All of you will be receiving additional training in covert operations from now on. Training begins today at 1400 hours in lecture room four. All of you are expected to be there, and I'm afraid that includes you Drake. I've spoken to the doctor about how best incorporate this into your treatment schedule. We need you back out there ASAP. That is all. Dismissed."

Standing up, the assaults from the front row climbed up the steps to the back, Drake getting up to join them. Morgan hurried to her side, offering her arm to Drake. The wounded trooper muttered a thank-you and accepted the help, the two women joining the men in the corridor.

"Are you worried about Kilroy?" Morgan asked. The Caucasian former US marine was a fresh recruit out of assault school, having done her first field operation just a few days ago.

Wolfer crossed his arms behind his head, speaking in a carefree tone, "I'm sure she'll be fine. Wasn't she like a secret FBI agent or some shit? If anyone's got this EXALT covered, it's Kilroy."

Drake glanced at the loud man, shaking her head, "She wasn't an agent. She was part of the Hostage Rescue Team, though she did mention having taken some classes in covert ops and agent studies."

Wolfer shrugged dismissively and started picking at his teeth with his nail. Instinct glanced over at Drake, speaking his encouragement, "Regardless, if there's an operative here for the job, it's her. She'll be fine, Drake."

The caramel-skinned woman nodded solemnly, turning her attention to steadying her walking. Her feet were shaking as her chest started to itch and burn once again, and the woman let out a small grunt. Speaking up, she turned to Morgan, "Can you help me over to the medbay? I think I'm due for more anti-burn cream. Hate that shit, it stinks like ass. Kinda like Wolfer here." Morgan grinned back at her senior, the comment drawing a cry of dismay from the big man walking ahead of them.

* * *

A fan spun around lazily in the ceiling of the small living room in the small apartment. Kilroy crossed her arms over her chest, tapping at the floor impatiently with her sneaker-clad foot. Speaking up, the woman said in an agitated tone, "So? Are they leaving or not?"

An African-American man with spectacles perched on his nose was tapping away on the computer set up in the corner of the room. Looking up at the operative, the man answered her question, "There's definitely increased activity around the building. I think they might be packing up."

Another man was sitting in an armchair, thumbing through a stack of files in his hands. Looking up from his work, the Caucasian male voiced everyone's concerns, "I don't think the amount of suits is going to go down until they're out."

Kilroy walked through the room littered with surveillance equipment located in downtown Tucson, Arizona. Peering through the half-closed blinds, she regarded the apartment building across the street. Turning to the Council's agents, she declared in a decisive tone, "Then we're going loud tonight."

The two men looked at each other and Thaecrasis, the man at the computer, turned to Kilroy, "It's your call, Sheriff. Everything's set up, all you need to do is say so and we'll support you to our fullest."

Kilroy nodded, staring the man in the eye and saying, "2000 hours is when we'll begin. You've got fifteen minutes to get your shit together people, we can't afford to fuck this up." The men acknowledged her order, and Kilroy strode into the bedroom of the apartment.

Pulling the door shut behind her, Kilroy closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. _You can do this. You have to do this. The plan will work._ Opening her eyes, she regarded the cleaner's outfit spread out on the bed.

Thaecrasis would be pulling his strings to stop the actual cleaner from showing up tonight. The cleaning company in question had a large roster of people, and it was a different person doing the apartment building almost every night. EXALT wouldn't be suspicious of a new face coming in. Kilroy let out a sharp puff, her shoulders heaving up and down as she psyched herself up.

Walking up to the bed, she tossed her laser pistol next to the outfit. It was a light blue garment consisting of loose trousers and a shirt, intended to be worn over your regular clothes. Getting to work, Kilroy dressed up in the uniform. Stuffing the laser pistol into the waistband of her jeans, the operative walked up to the full-length mirror on the other side of the room. Regarding her figure, she conclude the weapon was well concealed and not sticking out from under the cleaner's outfit.

Grabbing a bobble from the table, she pulled her hair into a tight little bun. Regarding the woman staring back from the mirror, a grin rose to her lips. The bastards wouldn't know what hit them. Reaching for the garrote on the table, she slipped the weapon into the pocket of her cleaner's shirt. Stuffing a few extra energy cells into her jeans, Kilroy headed back into the living room.

Thaecrasis was tapping away furiously on his computer, setting up the programs for the data recovery. The Caucasian man, Pandora, was standing up at the back of the room, away from the blinds and double-checking his sniper rifle. He was the weapons specialist of the team, and would be Kilroy's only immediate support if things went wrong.

Should the operation fail or should they spook EXALT's field squad deployed in the area, Thaecrasis would call for backup. The Skyranger would be deployed with an XCOM counter squad to combat the terrorists. Of course, the agents provided by the Council didn't know that. The backup they were supposed to call for could've been SWAT or FBI for all they knew. They didn't even know Kilroy's name; they were instructed to refer to the special operative by her code name, Sheriff, and to not ask any questions that weren't directly related to the mission.

Kilroy walked over to Thaecrasis and the man got up to attach a tiny mic into the collar of her T-shirt beneath the cleaner's garb. Offering Kilroy a small earpiece, the operative took up the gadget and placed it inside her ear. Turning her head, she offered the device for inspection. The black man nodded approvingly and Kilroy turned towards the room so she could see both the agents at once.

Lifting her arm, she looked at her watch and spoke up, "Okay, set watches to 2000 hours…now. Operation begins here people. Let's all play our parts, and let's play them well." With that, Kilroy headed towards the door, pushing out of the apartment.

Arriving in the empty hallway, Kilroy took a right. Taking the stairs down from the sixth floor, she headed for the back exit of the building. There, a car was waiting for her. Digging the keys from her pocket Kilroy got into the old, non-descript Sedan and started up the engine. Taking the long way around, she got into the main street leading away from the target.

"Sheriff here. I'm on the road. How copy?" There was a brief buzz of static on the line before the voice of Thaecrasis answered, "Copy that Sheriff, this is Phantom. All set up and waiting for the goods. Archer reports no new developments in the Vault."

Kilroy wheeled the Sedan around, taking the pass to the highway and driving past the neighborhood where their base and target were located at. Taking the ramp off, she drove into the area of operations from the north as darkness fell over the city. Checking her watch, she noted it was 2015 hours. The cleaning shift started at 2030 hours. Satisfied she was on schedule, Kilroy hit the brakes as she approached red lights at an intersection.

Cruising down the remaining blocks, Kilroy slowed her drive to a crawl as she approached the target apartment. Glancing to her left, she looked up at their base. Just another window like the rest of them. She wheeled the car to the right, parking on the side of the road in front of the target building. Giving the butt of her laser pistol a light tap through her shirt, she made sure the weapon was still there.

Getting up from the car, Kilroy slammed the door shut. Locking up the old Sedan, she hoped she'd still get to drive it out of here. Rounding the vehicle, she approached the glass doors of the old apartment building. The structure was five stories tall. The cleaning shift began from the top floor as the cleaner would work their way down floor by floor. The EXALT cell also happened to be located in the top floor. Distantly, Kilroy thought it was good she didn't actually have to clean for entire floors to make her way to the objective.

Pushing in through the doors, Kilroy headed for the elevator. She had memorized the layout of the building inside-out, and she took a left from the hall. Coming to the elevator, she noticed the arrow on the top signaling it was coming down.

Her earpiece buzzed to life and the worried voice of Thaecrasis came through on the line, "Two suits just left the Vault. No eyes on, but they could be headed down."

Kilroy stood still, waiting for the elevator. She summoned an indifferent look to her face and cocked her hip to the side, resting a hand on her waist. The numbers on the display decreased steadily. Four… three… two… one… the elevator dinged and the doors opened.

Two men clad in neat vests and khaki pants stepped out into the hall. They had red scarfs around their necks and appeared to have been in a heated discussion, silencing themselves as they saw Kilroy standing in wait. Kilroy nodded at the men and gave a disinterested _"good evening"_. The men nodded, and one of them glanced at the ID card on Kilroy's shirt. It had her face and a fake name on it under the company's name, "Neat Tucson Inc."

The men passed her by, and Kilroy pushed into the elevator. Hitting the number five, she leaned against the wall of the elevator and spoke into her mic in a quiet tone, "This is Sheriff. I'm in. Passed by two suits downstairs. Headed for the pit stop. How copy, over?"

This time the answer from Thaecrasis came immediately, the man's voice betraying his excitement, "This is Phantom. I hear ya Sheriff, the suits are headed out of the AO in their car. Seems like Lady Luck did smile on us after all!"

A small smirk rose to Kilroy's lips before she pushed herself to a standing position from the wall, muttering her acknowledgment into the mic. The elevator dinged once more and the doors opened to the fifth floor.

Stepping out into the corridor, Kilroy laid eyes on unkempt walls of concrete, painted light blue and gray. The floor was cracked, tiled in the same colors as the walls. _What a depressing dump,_ the thought crossed Kilroy's mind as she headed to her left towards the cleaner's cupboard. It was located at the opposite end of the floor from the EXALT cell's hideout. Digging the keys from her pocket, Kilroy opened the door and stepped into the small closet, closing the door behind her.

Kilroy hit the light switch next to the door, and the fluorescent lamp came to life, illuminating the small room. Shelves full of cleansers and cleaning equipment lined the walls, and the cupboard was dominated by the cleaner's cart in the middle. Kilroy squeezed between the shelf and the cart, getting to the back of the small space.

Kneeling down, she felt around in the corner of the room. As planned, one of the floor tiles was loose, and Kilroy dug her nails into the crack. Lifting the tile to the side, she reached into the space between the pipes and pulled out a rectangular brown leather bag. Peeking inside, she noted it contained the laptop required to mine the data they were looking for. Moving the floor tile back to its place, Kilroy swung the bag's strap over her chest and made her way back to the door.

Bringing her hand over to her earpiece, Kilroy contacted her support team, "Sheriff here. Pit stop completed, can you give me a sitrep on the Vault and the front yard?" Thaecrasis came through on the line, indicating the coast was clear. Kilroy let out a sharp sigh, pushing the door open and stepping out into the corridor.

Glancing left and right, Kilroy verified the coast was indeed clear. The view from their base only covered the very end of the corridor where the EXALT cell's hideout was located at. Shutting off the lights in the cleaner's cupboard and closing the door, Kilroy made her way over to the end of the corridor in a brisk pace. The two adjacent doors on the right at the very end were the target.

Reaching the window at the end of the corridor, Kilroy didn't waste any time. She inserted the cleaner's key into the slot on the side and turned it around. To her left, the corridor continued along the side of the building while the window in front of her opened out to the main street. Swinging the window open, she stepped out into the temperate May evening. Getting onto the grating of the fire escape, Kilroy closed the window after her.

Taking a deep breath, she turned towards the building, climbing up to the railing and stepping to the ledge running along the side. This was the tricky part; not only for the chance to lose your balance, but for the danger of any EXALT lookouts noticing the woman in cleaner's garb grappling along the side of the building like a special agent. They had determined no such lookouts existed, but pressed up against the side of the building and inching her way over towards the window of the enemy's hideout, Kilroy felt more naked and vulnerable than she ever had in her entire life.

Her earpiece buzzed to life, and the familiar voice came through on the line, "We have you covered, Sheriff. Sound surveillance indicates only one person inside, heavily distracted. Phantom out."

Kilroy slipped the cleaner's key into the slot on the outside of the window and turned it. Eyes peeled open and holding her breath, Kilroy pushed. The old windows had a simple one-level locking mechanism, and the frame swung inwards. Crouching down, Kilroy pushed the window all the way open and jumped into the room.

The living room was mostly empty. To her right, an old beat-up sofa was pushed up against the wall and to her left, an old TV sat on top of a cardboard box. Farther down the right, the door was shut tight with a simple coat rack standing in the corner. On the left wall, a closed door led into the bedroom of the apartment.

Directly in front of Kilroy, the opposite wall was taken up by a huge set of computers. The multiple monitors showed all sorts of data and recreational websites. With a quick glance, Kilroy noticed at least three computer towers. In front of the hacker's dream set up, a tall black computer chair swung from side to side.

Kilroy approached the chair quickly and silently, pulling the garrote from her pocket. Getting closer, she could see the headphones on the person's head as he rocked out to whatever music blasted through his ears. The man let out a few stumbling vocals and leaned forwards on his chair, reaching for the keyboard on the table. Kilroy came up behind him and stretched out the weapon in her hands.

Lunging forwards, the XCOM agent closed the wire of the garrote over the hacker's throat. All he could do was let out a surprised gurgle as the wire cut off his windpipe. Lifting his hands to his throat, the man struggled in vain. Kilroy pulled back hard on the garrote, using her body weight. The chair fell over as the man stumbled into the ground, the wire of the headphones pulling free as it got caught in the deadly weapon's grasp.

Kilroy jerked on the man, pulling him up against her body as the terrorist's feet wiggled helplessly on the floor, the urgency in his movements dying down by the moment. As the man's struggling stopped, Kilroy gave the garrote a few more jerks, making sure her target was dead. Loosening the cord across his throat, Kilroy let the man down to the ground, looking him in the face.

Kilroy stopped in her tracks. The man wasn't a man at all. His acne-ridden face was twisted into a horrific grimace with a red line running across his throat. The fledgling features betrayed him to be a boy barely in his twenties. He was wearing a black Machinae Supremacy hoodie and ill-fitting old jeans. Kilroy stared at his face for a moment before getting up, frantically making her way over to the open window. Pushing the window close, she turned over towards the bedroom.

Pulling the laser pistol from her waistband, Kilroy pushed up against the wall. With one hand, she reached over for the door knob and turned. Throwing the door open, she flicked the safety of the laser pistol off and stepped out into the doorway, weapon at the ready. Three sleeping bags and air beds lay on the floor amidst empty bags of candy, potato chips and cans of beer and soda. Making her way across the room, Kilroy opened the door to the bathroom. Empty. Turning around, she stuffed the laser pistol back into her jeans and got on the computer.

Setting her bag down on the table, Kilroy pulled out the laptop. Flicking the monitor up, she turned the machine on. Speaking to her mic, Kilroy contacted her support team, "I'm setting up the data mine. Took care of one… suit inside, please do keep me up-to-date if those two from before return. Sheriff out."

Listening to the response, Kilroy turned away from the table. She looked at the man lying down on the ground, dead by her hand. _He's just a boy,_ the thought flashed through her mind. Shaking her head, Kilroy turned her focus back to the laptop. _A terrorist. He was a terrorist, the same as those suits next door._ The laptop powered on, and Kilroy grabbed a cable from the bag, connecting the device onto the main computer.

"He's all yours, Phantom. Please do try to hurry, I'm getting a little antsy in here. Sheriff out", Kilroy spoke into her mic while walking over to the door and peering through the peephole.

The corridor was still empty. Praying no one would notice there was no cleaner out and about on the floors, Kilroy headed back over to the hacker's body. Removing the headphones and tossing them aside, she grabbed the dead man, _boy_, under his arms, dragging the body across the room. Backing up into the bedroom, she dropped the body on one of the air beds and spread out a sleeping bag over it.

Getting back into the main room, Kilroy closed the door behind her. From her earpiece, she heard Pandora come through on the line, his voice panicky, "Shit Sheriff, a suit's getting out from next door. He's coming to pay you a visit!"

Kilroy's heart jumped, and she pressed herself against the wall next to the main door. She laid a hand on the butt of her laser pistol, but she couldn't afford to cause a ruckus. _Silently, girl. Do it silently._ Taking a deep breath, she heard the lock rattle as the EXALT operative turned his keys inside.

The door swung open into the corridor, and Kilroy stepped out. With a swift kick to the groin, she incapacitated the EXALT operative. The man doubled over, grunting in surprise. Kilroy grabbed him by the hair and pulled hard, tossing him onto the floor of the apartment. Reaching for the door in the corridor, she pulled her laser pistol out as she closed the door behind her in one motion, wheeling around to face the terrorist.

The man was on one knee, his pistol halfway out of its holster. "Put it down. Now", Kilroy spoke in a cold, commanding tone. The man took a deep breath as he laid down his weapon. "Get down on both knees", came the next order from Kilroy, and the EXALT operative complied.

Looking at the high-tech weapon in her hand, the man spoke up, "Who are you?"

Not letting the enemy out of her sights, Kilroy stepped towards him, laser pistol pointed between his eyes. In an emotionless voice, special operative Kilroy responded, "Me? I'm just the Cleaning lady."

Circling around the man, she got to his backside. Putting the laser pistol in her shirt's pocket, she pulled out the garrote. Without mercy, she snapped the cord around the enemy's throat, pulling him back against her chest. The EXALT operative's hands jumped up, clawing at the wire, low guttural noises emanating from his strangled throat. Kilroy leaned in, whispering in his ear through gritted teeth, "And I'm here to take out the trash."

The man struggled for a while, Kilroy holding him firmly against her body, pulling hard on the garrote. Finally, he stopped fighting back, going limp in her arms. Distantly, Kilroy noted it had taken him considerably longer to expire than it had for the other man. _The other boy, you mean?_ With a shake of her head, Kilroy dragged the body into the bedroom, concealing it under another sleeping bag.

Getting back to the living room, she spoke into her mic in an agitated tone, "What's taking so goddamn long Phantom? I've got some serious heat on me here, please tell me you're finished."

The voice of Thaecrasis answered on the line in a heated tone, "I'm done when I'm done, stop pestering me! About one more minute, believe me, I'll let you know."

Kilroy walked back up to the door, taking another peek into the corridor. Nothing for now. Making her way back to the computer, she observed the various monitors. One of them featured a website unknown to her called 4chan, and another one had a paused video with half-naked anime girls on it. Kilroy shook her head as she eyed through the rest of them: a multiplayer shooter in the main menu, the website of an online gun store, a live-streaming website with an offline channel open.

In the corner of one of the monitors was an open IRC client with the nickname skynetZ logged in. Kilroy leaned in as she observed the white letters on the black window:

19:44:31 |lanik_| sup man?

19:45:54 |skynetZ| not much, just about to roll in the dough m8

19:46:12 |lanik_| what your parents feeling generous again? :D

19:48:22 |skynetZ| you wouldnt believe this shit

19:48:25 |skynetZ| gonna tell you all bout it

19:48:36 |skynetZ| we still up for friday?

19:49:20 |lanik_| hellyea man

19:49:31 |lanik_| this story better be good for all the hype

19:54:47 |skynetZ| hype train off the rails

19:54:52 |skynetZ| gon make it rain strippers and booze bro

19:58:22 |lanik_| :DDDD

Her earpiece buzzed to life as Thaecrasis informed her of successful data transfer. Kilroy turned away from the monitor and unplugged the laptop, stuffing it in the bag and swinging it over her shoulder. Looking through the peephole, she made sure the coast was clear. Opening the main door, she stepped out into the corridor.

Walking in a brisk pace, she made her way over to the stairs on the side. There was no way she was going to lock herself in the elevator now, and she rapidly descended onto the first floor.

The panicky voice of Thaecrasis rang in her ear as her earpiece buzzed to life once more, "Shit! Activity in the corridor, suits from next door going into the Vault fast. I've got movement outside as well, identified field squad vehicles. They've been spooked, Sheriff. Get the hell outta there, plan B!"

Kilroy cursed under her breath, taking off in a run towards the back of the bottom floor. Throwing open the back door, she tore the cleaner's clothes off of her, tossing them to the side. It had started to rain, and the black asphalt glimmered wet in the lights from the apartment building. Sprinting towards the dark back alleys, she spoke into her mic with urgency, "Call in the cavalry, Phantom! And get the hell outta there with Archer, you can't cover me anymore. Don't blow your own cover goddammit! Sheriff out, kill this line."

Tearing the mic and earpiece off of her, she threw them into the dark street. Coming up towards the lights on the other side, she slowed her run into a walk. The early evening had been temperate, but the air was getting chillier by the minute, and she cursed her lack of a coat. Re-positioning the laser pistol to the back of her waistband, Kilroy pulled her T-shirt over the weapon. Looking both ways across the street, she waited for a solitary car to pass before sprinting to the other side.

Making her way through the dark streets and back alleys of Tucson, she tried to follow the escape plan in her mind. They'd set up multiple safe houses all over the city, and she would have to find one to hunker down in and wait for the XCOM extraction squad.

The threat posed by and the resources available to the EXALT field squads had been analyzed by the Council, and they had been determined to be extremely dangerous and organized when on full alert. Trying to leave the AO would be incredibly risky without the support of XCOM's heavy fire power, and Kilroy wasn't about to disobey orders.

Deciding she'd gained sufficient distance to the enemy, Kilroy scanned the streets for a taxi. Seeing one parked on the side of the road further down, she hurried over. Hailing the taxi as it was about to take off, Kilroy ran to its side. Leaning into the passenger's window, she knocked on the glass.

The driver lowered the window, speaking in an annoyed tone, "I've got call on a customer already, woman."

Her face and hair wet from the rain, Kilroy pulled a wallet from the bag and shoved a stack of bills at the man. The driver's eyes widened as he beckoned for Kilroy to get in. Opening the door, Kilroy jumped inside and handed the man a stack of two hundred dollars and spoke an address a couple of blocks away from one of the safe houses. "You can keep that for yourself, I'll pay for the ride separately", she uttered, earning a grateful look from the driver.

"You were never here", the man muttered, taking off into the wet and dark streets.

* * *

A thoroughly wet Kilroy walked up to the door of apartment number 224 in a non-descript block of flats. Digging the corresponding key out of her bag, she unlocked the door and pulled it open. Stepping inside, she closed the door with an echoing _clang_ behind her.

The room was dark, with the only light coming in through the half-closed blinds. Slivers of light from the street lamps illuminated a round table in the middle of the room and the vague shape of a fridge on the left. Letting her hair free from its bun, Kilroy walked across the room.

Getting to the window, she put her fingers in-between the blinds, opening them up ever so slightly. Peering into the night, slivers of light illuminated her face: wet strands of hair framing her features, a distant and contemplative look in her brown eyes. Her lips parted slightly as she took in a breath of air, turning away from the window. Making her way over to the table in the middle of the room, she slung the bag off of her shoulders and laid it down gently.

Extracting the laptop from the wet bag, she turned around and headed for a closet next to the fridge. Looking inside, she noticed a familiar shadow she had placed there herself. Picking up the extra bag, she brought it over to the table. Taking a peek inside, the slivers of light from the window showed the shapes of the extra wallet, passport, ID, radio phone and other necessities inside. Tossing the wet bag aside, Kilroy gently placed the laptop inside the fresh one. Taking a slightly concerned look at the door, she headed for the bathroom.

Kilroy turned on the small fluorescent light above the sink, putting down the laser pistol and its energy cells in the medicine cabinet. Peeling the wet clothes off of her body, she tossed them unceremoniously aside. Unhooking her bra and slipping out of her panties, she got into the shower.

The warm water running over her tired body was the most blissful feeling she had felt in a long time. Letting her adrenaline-wrecked body relax for a moment, she lingered in the shower for a while before reaching for the shampoo. Scrubbing her firm and toned body clean, her mind was empty but for the feeling of running water on her skin.

With a heavy sigh, Kilroy shut off the shower. Stepping out, she reached for a towel and dried herself down. In one of the bathroom closets, a clean set of clothes was waiting for her. Pulling them on, she regarded herself in the mirror. Her face lacking make up was very much average. She wasn't gorgeous in the way Stoli was, nor was she plain like Renzol. The face of a normal brunette woman in her early thirties.

Giving herself a wink, she pointed a finger at the reflection. "Bang", she muttered, lifting her finger as if firing a gun. Reaching for the laser pistol and its energy cells, she walked out into the living room, shutting the lights behind her.

Kilroy laid the weapon down on the table, turning over to the fridge. Opening it up, she was bathed in the light from inside. A couple of days old pizza wrapped in aluminum foil and a few cans of soda were all that was inside. Grabbing the food, she muttered under her breath, "At least I've got pizza."

Turning around, she kicked the fridge door closed behind her and put down her haul on the table. Sitting down, she turned so she could keep an eye on both the door and the window. One for safety, the other for the enchanting view of the street lights shining in through the blinds.

Pulling the laser pistol close to her on the table, special operative Kilroy began her meal and the long wait for extraction.


	26. Chapter 25: Whatever it takes

Chapter 25: Whatever it takes

The hangar bay doors above closed with a resounding clang as the Skyranger made its landing and the ramp started to lower. Curious operatives looked on from the upper level of the hangar bay as the XCOM counter-terrorism squad returned from their first deployment against EXALT. The operatives burst into cheers and applause as the squad marched out of the Skyranger, special operative Kilroy smiling widely in her civilian clothes in the center of the uniformed formation.

"Brought her back safely! Didn't I tell you so?" squad leader Cell exclaimed, the South African gunner striding at the head of the formation with autolaser resting casually over her shoulders. The woman was of impressive size, not quite as tall as Daishi but definitely wider of brawn.

Kilroy grimaced and shouted her denial, "Barely! This is the last fucking time I leave base without kevlar." The assault was holding onto her side where an EXALT operative had winged her during extraction. She was lucky the shot hadn't connected squarely, or she might not be grinning with her comrades in high spirits.

A member of the XCOM intelligence team walked up to the formation and Kilroy slung the bag containing the laptop and valuable data over her shoulder. Offering the goods to the man, she spoke with a glimmer in her eye, "Better not drop it guy. You have no idea what I went through to get that."

Leaning against Hunterhr's shoulder, Kilroy let out a small grunt of pain as they started up the stairs to the upper level and towards the medbay.

* * *

"Zim did? No way. Whole country gone because somebody overslept…goddamn. What did they do with her?"

Kilroy was sitting on the edge of Drake's bed in the medbay, her gunshot wound tended to. Both women were wearing white patient's gowns and Drake, whose bed was propped up to allow for a sitting position, answered her friend, "They froze her allowance for two weeks for breaking the rules and missing duty. But the commander took full responsibility for the loss of South Africa, he said he should've just made a replacement and dispatched the squad sooner."

Kilroy shook her head in disbelief, letting out a small laugh. "And how did Zim react?" the assault asked.

Drake closed her eyes and placed a hand over her mouth, letting out a giggle before speaking up in an amused tone, "She said the sleep she got out of it was worth every penny and South Africa to boot. You can imagine Cell and co didn't take too kindly to that."

Kilroy let out a surprised whistle before muttering, "She always was one crazy girl."

Drake leaned back against the bed and the pillows behind her, absentmindedly scratching at her chest, "Yeah that was some seriously dark humor. Or at least I hope she was joking! You never know with that one."

Kilroy switched her position on the edge so she could look Drake in the eye. With a soft tone, she asked her friend, "How're you doing? They treating you alright here lil' sis?"

Smiling a crestfallen smile, Drake lifted her gaze to the ceiling of the room, "Yeah, no problems with the treatment. Been getting a lot of visitors too to keep my spirits up. Merlin and Kungtotte come by at least once a day and I see the assault crew at the ops training. But goddamn if I'm not getting sick of staring at this ceiling.

Drake ran a hand through her dark hair, closing her eyes and drawing a stuttering breath before continuing in a pained tone, "Month and a half, Kilroy. With no end in sight. Seeing our friends die and then getting locked in here…" Drake's voice trailed off as she held her hand in her hair, steadying her emotions.

Kilroy placed a hand on her shoulder, looking down at the bed and giving her friend her quiet support. They sat just like that for a while, and Kilroy's thoughts returned to the covert operation, and the face of the dead boy. Closing her eyes, she shook her head trying to banish the vision. Swallowing loudly, she turned to Drake.

"Drake?" Kilroy muttered. Looking up at her friend, Drake inquired what was on her mind. Staring at the wall behind the bed, Kilroy took a deep breath before speaking her mind, "We'll do whatever it takes to protect this Earth, right Drake?"

Tilting her head to the side and pushing up from the bed slightly, a worried look appeared in Drake's eyes. "Kilroy? What's wrong?" she asked.

Turning her eyes to meet Drake's, Kilroy repeated, "Whatever it takes, Drake. We'll do whatever it takes, right?"

Drake's frown smoothed out as she leaned back against the bed. Taking Kilroy's hand in hers, she gave it a reassuring squeeze, answering her friend solemnly, "Whatever it takes, Kilroy."

Turning her eyes away from her friend, Kilroy stared at the tiled floor. Under her breath, she muttered the words of her outfit, the solemn oath she had given for her planet and its people:

"_Vigilo Confido."_


	27. Chapter 26: Dedication

Chapter 26: Dedication

Kamikaze walked through the hillside shaded by tall pine trees all around. With autolaser at the ready, he was scanning for alien activity on the landed UFO site. The wrecks of three drones lay in the ground behind them as Renzol had led them through the first encounter at the AO.

The rocketeer at the head of the formation signaled for the squad to split up, and Kamikaze joined his leader in scaling the small hillock to their left alongside Private Burncycle and Specialist Hawkeye, the squad's combat medic, while Squint, Doubleumc and Morgan veered to the right, ready to move around the hillock.

Another low grunt echoed through the woods, and Renzol signaled for her support team to halt their advance, pressing up against the hillock. "We don't know what's out there. Be ready for anything", the rocketeer muttered in a low voice and Kamikaze responded with a solemn nod. Climbing up to the top of the rise, they laid eyes on a horrifying sight.

Three huge figures clad in heavy green armor stood amidst the trees. Low guttural noises emanated from their throats as they parleyed amongst themselves, their mouths covered by gas mask-like tubes. Renzol signaled for everyone to get in position, taking aim on the new and undoubtedly dangerous species of alien.

"Look out!" came the shout from Burncycle as Renzol was about to give the command to open fire. Plasma rained down from the tree tops as a solitary floater took aim on the squad leader.

Ducking her head down from the lookout's attack, Renzol cowered behind her tree. The mutons below wheeled around. Their tiny, pig-like eyes were sunken deep into their chiseled faces, burning with bloodlust. Rushing towards the squad, they took cover behind the trees and rocks of the forest, opening fire. Pulling back from the assault, Kamikaze ducked behind a rock, their surprise attack tattered and in ruins.

"We need help over here!" came the frantic shout from Renzol as she pressed up against her tree, slinging her rocket launcher to the ground in front of her.

The voice of Squint from downhill reached Kamikaze's ears as she prepared to draw fire. Peeking out from behind his rock, Kamikaze saw the little lady take off towards the enemy.

No sooner had she left her cover than the mutons turned their attention to her. Their plasma carbines were blasting high-powered energy at the scout and Squint ducked under the first barrage. Stumbling a little, she looked to veer to the side. Instead, she dashed straight into the second shot.

Without a sound, the small scout tumbled over, coming to a halt on the hillside, her limbs spread out limply around her. A sharp cry of denial rang in the woods as Renzol fired her rocket, the backblast sending a gust of soil and grass in Kamikaze's face. The rocket connected, and the blast of the high explosive sent one of the alien's cover up in a barrage of rocks and debris.

The rest of the squad hadn't let Squint's sacrifice go to waste either. Hawkeye dashed up from behind Kamikaze, taking cover in front of Renzol and burning a hole through the coverless muton's forehead, the big creature collapsing in a heap of massive armor and thick limbs. Downhill, Morgan dashed up, firing her scatter laser on the move. The prismatic rays of energy struck a muton in its flank, piercing through its armor and throwing the beast down to the ground.

Through it all, Kamikaze had his autolaser steadied on the rock, wiping dust and dirt from his eyes. Aiming between the trees, he saw the remaining muton take off, falling back from their ruthless counterattack. Pulling the trigger, Kamikaze sent a rapidly pulsing beam towards the alien's back, the supercooling systems of the big weapon bursting to life and filling his ears with its howling. The barrage set fire to a tree and mowed down several bushes, but the big alien ducked its head down and ran away, the floater from above following suit.

"Push on!" Renzol screamed, dashing up alongside Hawkeye with her shatterray shouldered.

The squad fired at the retreating aliens, the bright red beam lasers illuminating the shadows below the tree tops as Kamikaze got up from behind his rock, scrambling downhill towards Squint and the UFO behind her. Morgan yelled a warning as four seekers arrived to reinforce the defenders of the alien craft and plasma filled the air as the enemy turned back from their retreat, the tide of the battle swung around once more.

Kamikaze took cover behind a rock next to the hillside. Glancing up, he saw the enemy dug in across from them, a blast of high-energy whizzing past his head. Ducking behind the rock, he turned his gaze to Squint, only meters away from his position, out on the open hillside. The scout's chest heaved slightly up and down, and Kamikaze gritted his teeth together, still cowering from the relentless fire on his position.

_I wouldn't be here if not for Iku… what kind of a man am I if I let her bleed out? _Clenching his teeth together, Kamikaze slung his autolaser onto his back. With a primal roar the gunner stood up, pushing past the plasma flying in the air and towards the small woman bleeding out on a patch of grass in the rocky hillside.

Crashing to his knees next to Squint, Kamikaze pulled out the first aid kit from his belt. Slinging its contents on the ground, he pulled off one of his gloves and leaned in close to Squint's face. Her features were surprisingly peaceful, with strands of light brown hair curled up on her cheeks. Placing a hand on her neck, Kamikaze leaned in closer, listening.

Pulling to an upright position, the man gritted his teeth and grabbed the epinephrine needle. Tossing away the cover he slammed the needle into Squint's chest. The blasts of plasma and fizzing of lasers filled the air as the battle continued to rage on around him. Leaning over Squint, Kamikaze threw the needle aside and massaged the scout's chest roughly, willing her heart to beat again. Searing pain shot through his body as a plasma barrage connected with his back. With a muffled grunt, Kamikaze fell on the ground, covering Squint's body with his own.

Clenching his eyes shut, Kamikaze fought against the pain. With a massive roar, he rose to his knees and brought his fist down hard on Squint's chest. Shouting out his pain and frustration, he lifted his fist and slammed it down again. And again. And again.

With a jerk and a small sputtering cough, Squint stirred on the ground as her heart kick-started itself. Leaning over and grabbing the woman from below her arms, Kamikaze ignored the cries of dismay from the squad as more floaters joined the battle from the UFO.

A massive blast shook the branches above as Renzol's rocket destroyed two of the seekers ready to strike Kamikaze down. With a determined grimace, he dragged Squint towards the rocks behind him. Keeping the small woman's body low and close to the ground, Kamikaze made himself the bigger target as he dragged her towards safety.

The air in front of him rippled slightly as a seeker materialized out of thin air. Dropping Squint down, Kamikaze shouted a desperate denial, dashing towards the mechanical creature. It accepted the gunner in its welcoming embrace, its tentacles closing around Kamikaze, crushing his body and pushing the air out of his lungs.

Two precise laser shots flew through the shaded woods. With the energy striking the seeker in the back, the alien squirmed out into the air, smoke rising around it as it tried to conceal itself. A quick burst of small laser rays struck the robot, sending it spiraling through the air and crashing into the ground in a tangled mess of wires and circuitry.

Stumbling backwards, Kamikaze struggled for air, picking up the helpless Squint once again. His lungs burning and eyes darkening with the lack of oxygen, Kamikaze stumbled the last few steps to cover, laying the woman down and crashing against a rock, desperately gasping for air.

* * *

Renzol gritted her teeth as she fired her shatterray at the floaters charging her squad from the UFO. Loud blasting from the hillside to her right announced Kamikaze's return to the fight, a massive burst of laser rays spraying out into the air, causing one of the floaters to spin around wildly as it tried to get away from the suppressive fire. On her left, Morgan bounced from rocks to logs, laying down floater after floater with her scatter laser.

Cold sweat broke on Renzol's forehead as ever more floaters kept emerging from the UFO, this pack lead by the fearsome figure of a solitary muton. Shouting the order to fall back, Renzol turned away from the sight of plasma fire raining down towards Kamikaze's and Squint's position. Burncycle and Hawkeye followed their squad leader as she reloaded on the run, climbing up the side of the hillock where their battle had begun.

A barrage of plasma struck the tree next to her, sending splinters of wood into the air. Slipping to the ground, Renzol scrambled frantically towards the trees uphill. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the enemy in hot pursuit: a muton running wildly through the underbrush of the forest with three floaters barreling forwards with it. Morgan dived into cover behind one of the trees on the hillock below her, and Renzol shouted for her to throw the squad's last flashbang. Pulling the pin the assault complied, catching the charging enemy in a massive explosion of white light.

Renzol wasted no time getting into cover behind a tree and taking aim on the enemy's leader. The hulking beast stumbled forwards unsteadily, covering its eyes with one massive arm. The shatterray let out a series of rapid pulses, and the lasers tore into the alien's chest. Letting out a massive roar not in pain but in fury, the creature pushed on towards them, smashing its fist into a nearby tree, sending large splinters spinning through the shaded air.

_How do you fight that? There's nothing I can do,_ the helpless thought of a young and weak girl flashed in her mind. Biting into her cheek, the taste and smell of blood rushed Renzol's senses.

The muton kept on coming, driven forwards by its insatiable blood lust. Another laser shot from Burncycle struck the creature, doing nothing to slow it down. Swinging its carbine wildly towards Morgan, the muton shot the assault in her flank. Morgan yelled out in pain, trying to bring her scatter laser to face the enemy in time.

_I fear nothing. I am nothing. _The shatterray in her hands pulsed and the hulking monstrosity spun around, letting out a final muffled howl before disappearing into the undergrowth of the hillside. The disoriented floaters were firing wildly at their position in support of their now-dead leader's charge, but Morgan stepped out from behind her tree regardless, a determined grimace on her face. Scatter laser blasting, another one of their enemies fell under the shade of the pine trees.

Reloading her shatterray, Renzol looked on as one of the floaters turned tail and ran. A sudden explosion of laser fire from behind her signaled Kamikaze had rejoined them on the hillock, pinning the last floater behind a rock. Burncycle took full advantage of the opportunity, sprinting forwards and drilling a laser shot through the alien's head.

"Push the advantage!" the commanding shout rang in the air and for a moment, Renzol wondered who was leading the operation. She felt like she was looking in on the fight from somewhere far away and as Hawkeye followed the orders, dashing up and dropping a floater emerging from the doorway of the UFO, Renzol realized it was her own voice.

The squad moved up and spread out across the gently sloping hillside behind the pine trees, Doubleumc sticking on the hillock to their right to cover their flank. Muffled groans from the UFO signaled the arrival of ever more floaters. Hawkeye fired her laser rifle, and another one fell.

"Good fucking job Hawkeye! We're gonna transfer you to the infantry corps, you're a goddamn waste as a medic!" the shout rang over the squad, and Renzol still couldn't believe it was her own voice. She was possessed, and as the rest of the floaters charged, the shatterray in her hands came to life.

Swooping in from above the UFO, a floater took aim at the rocketeer. Renzol stepped out of cover, firing at the enemy. The rapid pulses glanced the alien in its jets and disfigured shoulders, sending it swooping unstably in the air with the plasma fire from its carbine flying harmlessly over Renzol's head. The rest of the aliens joined the charge, plasma flying towards her squad.

"Hold steady boys and girls! We are taking this one home!" another encouraging shout echoed in the shades of the pine trees. A laser shot from Burncycle struck one of the floaters and Renzol quickly veered her aim from the wildly flying one, a rapid burst of high energy dropping the alien on top of the UFO.

The floaters retaliated, a plasma barrage striking Hawkeye as she was stepping out to fire. Pulling back into cover the medic screamed in pain, holding onto her shoulder and falling to the ground against the tree. Renzol stared at the woman, the words of encouragement stuck somewhere deep inside her. _Speak, goddammit! Lead your people you worthless piece of shit!_

From somewhere far away, Burncycle howled in agony as the enemy pushed on. Another plasma barrage came down on Hawkeye, striking the woman from behind and sending her sprawling on the ground, a sizzling hole in her back. Tears of frustration rose to Renzol's eyes as she watched Hawkeye die, and she bit into her cheek once again. Screaming wildly, she pushed out from behind her tree.

The floater that had killed Hawkeye brought its carbine around, sending a salvo of plasma fire towards Renzol. Dropping to one knee, she dodged the plasma and reloaded her shatterray. Quickly taking aim, Renzol responded in kind. The shatterray in her hands stuttered and the alien let out a muffled howl as it dropped down to the ground.

Another one flew in on her right, and Renzol brought her weapon around. Striking the alien with another burst of high energy, the floater crashed into the hillside. Taking off back up into the air, the creature's flight was cut short by Doubleumc as she fired her laser rifle.

Renzol reloaded again, pushing towards the alien craft with Doubleumc. A muton rushed from the side door of the UFO, limping badly and growling in anger. Renzol fired her shatterray, missing the exposed alien. Screaming out in frustration, she watched on as the alien sent a hail of energy towards Doubleumc. The private ducked under the fire and retaliated, burning a hole through the creature with her laser rifle.

More floaters kept on coming, and the squad's weapons fired wildly. Renzol was in a haze; hitting shots, missing shots, killing a floater, not killing a floater, engaging an outsider, not engaging an outsider. All of it blended together as they stood in line against the remaining enemies. Until finally, the UFO landing site was silent.

* * *

Kamikaze was lying face down in his bed, fighting against sleep. His back was on fire after the injuries he had taken. It would be so easy to give in to the painkillers and let the abyss take over, drifting off into blissful sleep. But Kamikaze struggled on, forcing his eyes open whenever they started to slump. _I have to know, _the thought circling around in his head, denying him his rest.

He didn't know how long it had been. It must have been hours, but it felt like an eternity. Biting into his cheek to force away the weariness, he was a man possessed. His mind was in a daze and not thinking straight, but it all seemed to make sense to him: everything hung on this one thing, and one thing only. _I have to know._

Finally, after what had felt like a lifetime, he heard the doors to the operating room slide open. From behind him came the steady steps of a nurse and the rattling of wheels. Tensing his neck and peeling his eyes open in his feverish state, Kamikaze saw them enter his sights. The nurse wheeled the bed around, setting it against a screen close to Kamikaze before taking off back the way she had come.

The man let out a deep breath, his body finally relaxing and his head going limp against the pillow below him. He gazed at the woman lying in the bed next to him. Squint's features were gentle under the oxygen mask. The EKG next to her was beeping steadily, and the woman's expression looked almost serene in her slumber. Her arms were crossed over her stomach and a few locks of hair framed her face, the rest of them spread out over her pillow.

_Like sleeping beauty,_ a delirious thought crossed over Kamikaze's weary mind.

He stared at the sight in front of him, eyes slowly slumping. With no more need to fight, he let the sleep take him. Drifting off to unconsciousness, the last thing on Kamikaze's mind was the serene, beautiful face of the woman he had fought so hard to save.


	28. Chapter 27: Favorite son of Doorn City

Chapter 27: Favorite son of Doorn City

The man was crouching behind a banged-up red SUV, green plasma burns decorating the hood and roof of the car. Wearing only a simple UN ballistic vest for armor over his uniform and holding an empty pistol in his hand, the man had a determined and slightly amused grin on his face. Brow furrowed and teeth gritted together, General Van Doorn peeked out from behind the SUV.

"Yeah, you want to get some of this?" the shout rang across the devastated highway.

The thin man responded with a barrage of plasma and the big man ducked his head down. Jumping up, he pointed the empty weapon at the alien, causing it to pull back behind the wrecked car it was hiding behind. With a booming laugh, Van Doorn dropped down and leaned his back against the car once again.

The UN general had been caught in a devastating sneak attack by the alien invaders. His convoy had been reduced to a burning wreckage and most of his men had died fighting an uphill battle against the overwhelming enemy. But if you know the man they call "the Doorninator" and "the Doom Van" you'd know he doesn't give up. Not even against overwhelming odds.

A rapid series of steps emerged from the back of the SUV. Spinning around towards the enemy, Van Doorn saw a single thin man poke its head out from the back of the car, carbine at the ready. Lunging towards the enemy, Van Doorn let out a roar and made himself as big as he could. The alien cowered, and the general grabbed onto its thin arm. Swinging hard, he brought the creature crashing against the side of the big vehicle. Arms and legs flailing like wet noodles, the thin man was no match for the Doorn. Spinning around like an Olympic hammer thrower, Van Doorn sent the alien flying off the highway, its spectacled eyes wide with wonder as it met its doom.

A rapid series of red laser fire emerged from the ledge of the highway behind Van Doorn. Seeing figures clad in unknown uniform firing weapons of a technology level he had never seen, Van Doorn shouted into the night, "You the ops team? Get over here! Not fair if I have all the fun!"

Seeing another thin man dash towards the SUV, the Doorn jumped up and sent his empty pistol flying at the alien at incredible speed. The firearm-turned-boomerang buried into the creature's head, causing it to pull off a perfect backflip before lying still on the highway. The operatives uphill exchanged looks of dismay with each other and Van Doorn let out another booming laugh.

Another thin man dashed up to the other side of the SUV, and the soldiers behind him tossed a flashbang through the air. Yelling out in surprise, Van Doorn closed his eyes as he was caught in the flash, ears ringing and retinas burning. Squinting his eyes, he saw an attractive blonde get ready to toss a grenade towards the alien.

"Hey, over here!" the Doorn yelled, stretching his arms out while blinking away furiously. The grenade flew through the air and Van Doorn caught it, like a footballing muton in the end zone.

"TOUCHDOWN!" the American hero yelled, jumping up into the air and slamming the grenade down over the hood of the SUV. The anti-personnel grenade exploded and the thin man shrieked in horror as the fragments tore apart its disgusting xeno body.

The blonde from before scrambled down the sloping highway as the rest of the squad fired at the enemy across the battlefield. The woman took cover next to him, looking at him with her blue eyes. "General Van Doorn?" she inquired.

The big man answered, "In the flesh. And even I couldn't have held them off forever, so thank you for coming to my help. A lot of my boys aren't breathing anymore, so make sure you take out every last one of these bastards!"

Looking up towards the squad, the big man continued on, "So we heading for extraction? Fine by me. Nice pass by the way! You'd make a great quarterback."

Starting the climb up the ramp, Van Doorn missed the perplexed look on Stoli's face as she muttered under her breath, "Pass? You just jumped to catch it off the air…"

Getting up the ramp, Van Doorn took cover behind a piece of concrete lying on the ground. Next to him a smug-looking Latino with lieutenant's insignia on his shoulder was firing at the enemy. Leaning in closer to inspect his laser rifle, the Doorn let out an impressed whistle.

"I don't know what outfit you're from, but I haven't seen gear like THAT before", he commented.

The soldier gave him a puzzled sideways glance and quipped, "I'm kinda busy here old man. Can't you see?"

With a booming laugh, Van Doorn slapped the man in the back, causing him to lunge toward the edge of the ridge. Scubaman cursed loudly and put out a hand to steady himself on the concrete block.

"You seem to be doing just fine there, sonny! Keep up the good fight!" the Doorn exclaimed, taking off towards the back of the squad. Looking back over his shoulder, Scubaman stared at the man, his mouth hanging open and for once left without a comeback.

Van Doorn pushed up against the back of a large military truck as more thin men dropped down around them. "Goddamn piece of shit thin men not playing fair again!" a Mexican woman screamed from the edge of the truck, firing her laser rifle at the enemy.

Van Doorn peeked out from behind her back, staring towards the aliens taking cover down the road. "Yeah, you got that right", the General agreed, causing the woman to glance over her shoulder in surprise.

"Get the hell back in cover! What the fuck are you doing?" the female operative shouted in a heated tone, drawing another loud laugh from the Doorn.

"Quite the temper you've got there! I like that! A soldier's got to have heart!" Van Doorn shouted, giving her helmet a tap before dashing towards a large SUV in front of them.

Scubaman joined Merlin at the truck and the woman cocked her head to the side, giving him an incredulous look. Scubaman raised his eyebrows and puckered his lower lip, joining Merlin in her disbelief with a small shrug.

With the last of the xeno-scum mopped up, Van Doorn walked up to the Skyranger. Turning to the ops team he spoke in a solemn tone, "I owe you one. Seriously, I wouldn't BE here without your help. Now where do I sign up?"

Scubaman glanced around his people with a puzzled look on his face before voicing everyone's disbelief, "Uhhh, sign up sir? You're a motherfucking general, pardon my French."

Turning around and barking up a laugh, Van Doorn scaled the ramp into the Skyranger. Over his shoulder he shouted, "I'm gonna get another shot at these bastards! I owe it to my men."

* * *

_A few days later_

The hallway in front of the main door leading up to the surface of the underground complex was filled with XCOM operatives. People were whispering and arguing with each other, many raising their voices in disbelief.

"It's a waste of time I say! No way is this bullshit rumor true!" the shout of Merlin rang over the crowd as she argued with the people around her.

"I bet the commander's just fucking with us", came the comment from Cell as she picked through her nails with her pocket knife.

"Fuck me I hope it's true! I wanna see this guy after what I heard!" Wolfer exclaimed loudly, drawing looks from the people around him.

With a hiss, the massive machinery of the blast door came to life, and the locking mechanisms clanged as they released themselves. The door began inching its way upwards and the crowd pushed forwards, base security personnel yelling for them to stand behind the red line. Everyone craned their necks as they struggled to see over the heads of their fellow operatives.

From the crack between the door and the floor, the legs of a solitary figure came to sight. Mumbling filled the hall as the door continued its ascent, now showing the jeans belonging to a man of respectable size and a duffel bag hanging next to them. Torso clad in a simple sweater and a stylish yet modest coat followed, until finally the face of a middle aged, bald man came into the sights of the XCOM personnel. Stepping into the base, Van Doorn smiled widely as he lifted his hand and opened his mouth in greeting:

"Is this where I get to slay the xeno-scum?"


	29. Chapter 28: Red Fog

Chapter 28: Red fog

Author's note: So there was a bit of a misunderstanding on my part. Out of the three other starting South Africans aside from Wolfer, DSM and Cell are white while Kungtotte is black. For some reason, I always assumed Wolfer was white as well. Turns out, he just wears a helmet during every other operation except the covert op and what do you know, he was black after all. But the thing is, I already have written him out as being white and while it might not seem like a big deal, it actually REALLY matters for what I had planned for this covert op (as you will soon see), not to mention the whole picture of him that I have in my head. At this point I don't see any reason to change my plans, so there it is. Wolfer's white now. As for why the lengthy explanation when 99% of you probably wouldn't have even noticed; I don't want the remaining 1% to start throwing the r-word at me.

* * *

The black minivan stood parked in a dark alleyway in the outskirts of Detroit. The neighborhood was home to a small gang of Neo-Nazis and the combined intelligences of the Council and XCOM had pinpointed their hideout to be the location of an EXALT cell. Their plans to carry out sabotage against XCOM had to be stopped; another hacked bank account would slow down the defense against the alien invaders considerably, not to mention the terrific prospect of losing valuable research data. Along with destroying the cell, one of the covert operation's goals was to gain access to additional information on the elusive terrorist organization in order to gain the upper hand in the war against terror. As if handling one of those wars wasn't already enough for XCOM.

"Okay, I'm gonna say this one more time: don't fucking hold back. I'm gonna smash your faces in and break your necks if you do. These guys will know if you're faking it. Authenticity, boys", Wolfer whispered to the team of Council's agents gathered around him in the van.

The massive assault had his head clean shaven and was wearing a bomber-style leather jacket over his shirt. Urban camo pants rounded off a sight you would not want to come across in the streets after dark. The four men around him muttered their acknowledgment: all of them dark-skinned individuals and two of them holding lead pipes. With one final glance around, Wolfer got out of the van.

Sliding the door shut quietly, Wolfer took off into the dark street. No one sane was out at this hour, but their surveillance had shown a patrol of gang members walk by every night. Stuffing his hands in his jacket, the big man started down the street. A lookout would signal the crew inside the van once the target would be close by.

Wolfer wasn't a man easily overcome by nervousness. Going into fights and battles had always been like a second nature for him; hell, it might have been his first nature! But doing a covert operation, now that's something completely different. But considering the target, he was the only candidate among the XCOM covert operatives and the commander had signaled his full confidence in the South African's capabilities.

With the slightest bit of pressure in the pit of his stomach, Wolfer walked down the street. _It'll be gone when the fighting starts,_ the man reassured himself. And as if on cue, the screech of wheels came from behind him as the headlights of the van bore down on him. Turning around, Wolfer covered his eyes with a raised arm. The van speeded towards him and came to a drifting halt across the road, the doors sliding open as four dark figures jumped out into the street.

"Fucking niggers!" Wolfer roared, charging the first man coming at him. With a sharp jab, he caught the man squarely on the nose. The attacker was taken by surprise, screaming out loud as a sickening crunch and a spray of blood indicated a broken nose. An angry thought crossed Wolfer's mind. _What did I fuckin' tell ya?_

Turning to the next attacker, Wolfer lifted an arm to block the swing of a lead pipe. The weapon crashed across his arm, rattling his nerves and drawing a grunt of pain from the big man. But his other arm followed up, burrowing into the attacker's gut and causing him to double over. A lead pipe struck him in the shin from behind, and the big man fell down on one knee with a roar of anger.

Wheeling around, Wolfer saw the man begin to raise his weapon for another strike. Grabbing the pipe before he could do so, Wolfer pulled hard on the weapon. The man came lunging at him and the assault crashed his forehead into the black man's face, sending him stumbling backwards and wrestling the pipe for himself.

Another strike from a pipe landed on his back, this one in absolute full force. Shouting in pain, Wolfer fell forwards, trying to spin around on the ground. A kick landed in his side and then another one, and the man curled up, dropping the pipe and pulling his arms to cover the back of his head. A dozen or so more strikes landed before the men around him yelled it was time to leave, and the hits finally stopped. Screeching tires accompanied their retreat as Wolfer gingerly got up to one knee.

His sides were aching and the arm which he had used to block the lead pipe was screaming at him. Looking up with a pained grimace, Wolfer saw two men running towards him. Sporting leather jackets and shaven heads, it looked like their bait had been taken.

Pushing his head down, Wolfer cursed loudly as he steadied himself with one arm. "Hey you alright man? What did the niggas want with you?" one of the men called over as they drew closer. Glancing up at the approaching men, Wolfer drew in a deep breath. _This is it. Don't fuck up._

"What does a nigger ever want with you? Do they need an excuse to beat up a white man?" the assault boomed, staring intently at the men approaching him. The bangers exchanged a look and walked up to Wolfer. Helping him up to his feet, one of them uttered his agreement while the other one eyed Wolfer up and down.

"What are you doing here? I've never seen you around here", the skeptical one inquired, his pierced brow furrowed over a pair of suspicious eyes. The man's face was narrow and sly and reminded Wolfer of a weasel.

Grunting in pain and rubbing his wounded arm, Wolfer answered, "I just got into town and heard there might be some folks who share my ideology around here." Turning to the man, Wolfer easily stood a head above the banger. Looking down with hard eyes he leaned in closer, lowering his voice, "Did I hear wrong?"

Regarding Wolfer with some concern in his eyes, the pierced banger turned to his partner. Receiving a nod of approval from his companion, the man looked back to Wolfer. "Okay, we'll take you to Lamont. What's your name, stranger?" the man finally spoke up.

"Havoc", Wolfer gave his fake name, shaking the men's hands as they uttered theirs. Limping slightly, the big man followed his new acquaintances back the way they had come from.

Passing by many old apartment buildings and a few stores, the men finally arrived at an old two story building that had probably housed multiple stores in the past. Now it was used as a shelter by the worst kind of human trash, and the appearance did nothing to hide the fact. Wolfer wrinkled his nose slightly as he approached the building, the shabby exterior only a small improvement over a crack house. Pushing in through the front door, the two guards posted inside stopped them.

"Yo, who's the new guy?" one of the guards asked. The man was fat and huge, almost as tall as Wolfer and well wider.

His escorts explained what had happened, and the guard signaled for Wolfer to spread his arms and legs. The covert operative complied as the man patted him down roughly, drawing a sharp breath from Wolfer as the guard didn't give any consideration for his beaten sides. With a wave of his hand the guard sent them off and Wolfer bit back the urge to punch the man in his smug, plump face.

The interior of the building was a slight improvement over the outside: the corridors were relatively clean and the walls had been painted a faded yellow, only partially covering the old ripped wallpaper below. Walking through the corridors they made their way over to the back of the building. Through the open doorways he saw bangers gathered around tables, playing cards and drinking booze or just lounging around.

"How many people you got here?" the big man asked his escorts.

The sly-faced escort, Taniseth, answered "Twenty-two. Twenty-three soon, I imagine you're wanting to stay, yes?" The man regarded Wolfer with a glimmer in his eyes and the big assault got the unnerving feeling he was onto him. Pushing such thoughts off his mind, Wolfer turned his eyes back towards the end of the corridor.

"We'll see what this boss of yours has to say", he answered as they came to the door.

Taniseth gave the door a sharp knock and hollered out he had a new recruit. It took some time before a voice from inside answered. Taniseth pushed through the door, closing it behind him and Wolfer heard their muffled voices through the door, unable to make out what was said. Eventually, the door re-opened and the banger stepped out, regarding Wolfer with amused eyes and silently signaling for him to step inside.

The man sitting behind the table was a mean looking son of a bitch. His head was shaven and his black goatee hung long below his chin. The man was pierced at both eyebrows and lips, and his eyes were stone cold gray above his wrinkled mug.

"Come on in", Lamont said with a cool voice, signaling for Wolfer to take the chair in front of him. Wolfer gave the man a nod and complied, closing the door behind him and walking across the room.

The room's walls were painted red and a massive bed stood in one corner. A naked woman of some forty years lay on the bed, apparently unabashed by her nakedness in front of a complete stranger. Her eyes were sunken and hollow and spoke of a long-standing drug addiction. She regarded the big man with mild curiosity in her eyes.

"So, you want to join us?" Lamont asked from behind his desk as Wolfer seated himself.

Looking the man in the eye, Wolfer gave his answer with an unwavering voice, "Well I was mostly looking for a place to crash at for a couple days. But seems like you've got a pretty sweet set-up here, so why not?"

The man stared at Wolfer with his hard eyes, responding in a quiet tone, "Why not indeed? We can always use more manpower, especially if they're as good at fighting as Taniseth made you out to be." The gang leader turned his head and looked over at the bed for a moment before returning his gaze to Wolfer and speaking up once again, "What's your story?"

Wolfer recited the backstory they had come up with: how he'd found out his girlfriend had cheated on him and he'd beaten the woman into hospital shape and killed the man who she had done it with. Fleeing across the border from Vancouver he had come to Detroit to start anew again. By the time he was done with, Lamont was nodding ever so slightly behind his desk.

"That's an interesting tale you've got there", the man uttered, taking a moment to stare Wolfer intently in the eye. The operative answered his stare, his chiseled features betraying nothing. With a sigh, the leader of the gang got up and turned towards the bed. "Taniseth will take you to the doc for inspection and recount you the rules of our little communion here. Respect them, and we'll come along just fine I have no doubt." Lamont ushered for him to get out while walking up to the bedside.

As Wolfer turned to head for the door, he was interrupted by the leader once more, "One last thing. Don't mess with the Suits. We don't ask them nothing and we don't disturb them, you got that?" Glancing over his shoulder, Wolfer voiced his acknowledgment and pushed out the door.

The men outside the room welcomed him into their gang with pats on the back and laughter. Wolfer responded in kind, but inside he felt sick right down to his guts. Looking at the men smiling next to him he got the sudden urge to grab their heads and bash them against the wall, spraying their brains and blood all over the tapestries. And then rinse and repeat for the rest of the scum inside. But instead he only grinned, following Taniseth through the corridors into the doctor's office.

Doctor and office were the overstatements of the year. It was a small room with a desk in the back and a chair in the middle and an old, shriveled man with disinterested eyes and horribly unkempt teeth. Wolfer took off his jacket and shirt as the presumed doctor poked at his wounds and bruises, all the while listening to the chatter of Taniseth as he explained the way of life in the gang. Wolfer responded with grunts of pain and agreement. Getting to the end of his explanations, the sly man noticed the tattoo of the assault's insignia on Wolfer's bicep. The black ink depicted an alien skull with slanted, oval eyes.

"Yo, cool tat man! What is it?" Taniseth inquired eagerly, leaning in closer to check out the simple yet professional work on his skin. Wolfer flexed his muscles, and the image moved along with the brawn below.

"Fuck the Chinaman", he uttered in a serious tone, drawing a quick puzzled look from Taniseth before the man exploded into cackling laughter. Wolfer got up and pulled his shirt over his head, covering the tattoo once again. _I need to be careful around EXALT,_ the man thought to himself as he got back out into the corridors with his new brother.

But EXALT never came. Wolfer got into the daily cycle of things inside the gang, learning the ropes and pecking orders around the base. The closest thing he ever saw to EXALT was the door at the end of one corridor, always guarded by two bangers.

The Council's agents had caught wind of the cell through sightings of an EXALT field squad in the Detroit area. Pinpointing them into the gang's hideout had been a lot harder, with minimal traffic in and out of the building. They had identified a total of four different EXALT operatives entering and leaving the building, with usually only two or three inside at any given time.

Wolfer had tried asking around about the Suits during card games and drinking nights. Nobody really knew anything about them or their schedules, and few wanted to guess. Apparently EXALT paid the gang well and most of the bangers respected their boss enough to keep their mouth shut if he told them to. However, Wolfer did learn that guard duty on their door was a total pain-in-the-ass and considered the lowest of assignments around, yet it was still only given to proven gang members.

It was three days after his acceptance into the gang when Wolfer went out on patrol with two other bangers and Taniseth. It was basic patrolling around their turf like any other night. Except this night, they found a trespasser.

"Yo look, what do we have here?" Taniseth whispered to Wolfer as a solitary figure stepped out into their sights from an intersection up ahead. The street lights illuminated a black man in his twenties with his hoodie up over his head, turning away from the group and walking down the street, oblivious to his surroundings and the fact he had strayed into the wrong neighborhood. A chill ran down Wolfer's spine as he looked over at Taniseth, the man now smirking as he popped his fingers and regarded the back of the man ahead of them.

The bangers picked up the pace as they walked down the street, Taniseth turning to Wolfer and signaling for him to keep up. Taking a deep breath, Wolfer took a few long strides to catch up with the group. A heavy lump materialized in the back of his throat as he stared at the man in front of them with wide eyes. _Fucking run, man. What the fuck are you doing out here?_

Steadily gaining ground on the hooded figure, Wolfer clenched his fists in anger. They were mere ten meters away now and there was no way the black man would get away. Wolfer squeezed his eyes shut as he struggled against the urge to pound the men next to him into a pulp. Opening his eyes and drawing a deep breath, he tensed his body as the bangers got ready to pounce. _No holding back. They'll notice._

Taniseth was the first to lunge forwards, the young man turning around as he realized all too late what was happening. The sly banger stomped on their victim's knee while grabbing onto the man's shoulder, drawing a surprised yell of pain as he fell over. And then they were all over him, legs kicking wildly and mouths spouting racial slurs and insults as the black man curled up helplessly on the asphalt. And Wolfer was with them.

A red fog filled his eyes as he stomped on the helpless man. His face was twisted into a horrific grimace as he shouted his hatred out. The words coming out of his mouth were foul and despicable and the anger was real. Wolfer was furious with himself, and at the men next to him. Taking that anger, he turned it towards the helpless man lying on the ground. It was the most convincing of performances, and as the man on the ground stopped moving and the other bangers got ready to leave, Wolfer was the last to stop kicking. Looking up with burning eyes, the other skinheads recoiled away from the sight before letting out booming laughs. The men congratulated Wolfer on his hatred for the nigger, and the assault glanced back down once more.

The young man was lying on the ground. He wasn't moving and a massive tear in his head was slowly leaking blood into a small pool below him. "He dead?" Wolfer asked, his chest heaving up and down with heavy breathing.

"Does it matter? The nigga learned his lesson, one way or the other!" one of the men exclaimed cheerfully and the group turned around to head back to their hideout and away from the crime scene. Wolfer stared at the man a while longer and another shout came from behind him, "Yo Havoc, you wanna finish the job or are you gonna come?"

Turning around, Wolfer steeled himself and joined the men as they returned. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he regarded the people in front of him. A sick twisting was rising in his stomach and looking at the scum in front of him only made it worse. _I'm gonna kill every single one of you before this is over, _an inner voice rang in his head. Closing his eyes for a moment summoned back the image of the man, spread out on the asphalt, bleeding away. _What, so are you gonna kill yourself too? _Another voice answered, and Wolfer gritted his teeth in anger.

It was the next day when they announced Wolfer would be on guard duty. The bangers sarcastically congratulated the newcomer on his promotion and Wolfer answered their camaraderie with grins and laughs. Inside, he was boiling. The moment would finally come and he would be able to get this over with, one way or the other. His post was next morning with Taniseth and as the day came to a close, Wolfer excused himself out of the hideout and into the streets.

Walking up to the side of an old auto repair shop some five blocks away from the hideout, the operative made his way to a trashcan on the side of the building. One of the council's agents drove the garbage truck that worked the area, and Wolfer reached into the trashcan. Pulling out the walkie-talkie taped into the side of the trashcan, Wolfer glanced around before making his way into the back of the closed repair shop.

Setting the frequency, the big man talked into the phone, "Soulstep here. Do you read me?"

There was a pause of about ten seconds before the phone buzzed to life, a female voice responding on the line, "This is Mother Mary, I read you Soulstep. What's going on?"

"I'm going loud tomorrow at 0600 hours. Make sure the big boys are ready to back me up at extraction after that. Do you copy?" Wolfer stared off into the dark alleyways as he waited for the response. Getting the acknowledgment, he signed off and brought the walkie-talkie hard to his knee, smashing it to pieces. Tossing the broken gadget back into the trash, he took off back towards the hideout.

The night was a restless one as Wolfer ran the extraction plan in his head, over and over again. When he finally tried to sleep, the young black man lying on the asphalt returned to haunt him. So instead he just lied in his bed, hands behind his head, waiting. Until finally, it was time for his shift.

Getting up from his bunk, he joined a sleepy Taniseth in the junction leading up to the EXALT's door. Yawning widely, the sly man complained as they walked up to the night guards. It was 4 am and their shift would last until 10 am. Switching shifts, the relieved guards passed their pieces to Wolfer and Taniseth, taunting them as they took off. Leaning against the wall, Wolfer regarded the door silently. It didn't even have a lock on it; EXALT really seemed to be smug and overly confident with their ability to manipulate other people into doing their bidding. Wolfer smiled slightly as he thought towards 6 am.

Taniseth continued his complaining the entire morning, his whiny tone and weasel-like features growing ever more on the big assault's nerves. Until finally, his clock struck 0600 hours. Turning to Taniseth, Wolfer smiled a heartfelt smile.

"Taniseth?" the big man inquired. The banger glanced up at Wolfer with surprised eyes, having gotten used to the man's silence during the morning shift. Wolfer grinned from ear to ear as he continued, "I've got something I wanna give ya." Turning to the big man face-to-face, the small Nazi's response was cut off as Wolfer's hand closed around his throat.

A disbelieving look appeared into the banger's eyes as his arms instinctively jumped up to the hand around his throat. With his other hand, Wolfer snagged the pistol from the man's pocket, clicking his tongue disapprovingly as the man tried to reach for the gun, incoherent gurgling emanating from his mouth. Tossing the pistol to the ground, Wolfer closed his other hand around Taniseth's throat and lifted him from the ground.

Pushing him against the wall, Wolfer's thumbs pressed into his throat, sinking in as if he was kneading bread. Taniseth's windpipe let out a sickening crunch as it collapsed under the pressure, and the man's eyes bulged out, legs drumming against the wall helplessly. Wolfer's face was twisted into a horrific grin as he let out all of the frustration, anger and violence pent up inside of him over the course of the operation. He pushed and pushed and pushed, and blood started to trickle down from Taniseth's mouth. His eyes turned back into his skull as the blood continued to run, until finally his legs stopped moving.

Dropping the man to the ground, Wolfer turned to the door. The red fog had settled over his vision once again and any semblance of covert actions had left his mind. Pushing the door open, he stepped into the room.

"Hey, you can't come in here!" an EXALT operative shouted from behind the desk in the middle of the room. In front of him was a high-tech laptop and a pile of files and folders spread out across the length of the table. His eyes moving from Wolfer to the dead man lying on the ground behind him, the terrorist's eyes widened as he reached for his pistol. He never had a chance.

Wolfer was on him in three lightning strides. Grabbing onto the man's vest, he jerked hard and the man came flying over the table. Crashing into the floor face-first, the EXALT operative lost his grip on his weapon, the pistol clattering across the room. Dropping his knees hard on the man's back, Wolfer slammed the air out of his lungs. The red fog was on him, and there was no stopping it.

Grabbing onto the man's head with both hands, Wolfer brought it up hard, the man exclaiming in pain as his torso twisted between the knees pushing him in the back and the hands pulling him up. With all his might, the assault crashed the man's head onto the floor. A hollow thud emanated from the floor boards as the man lost consciousness. Bringing his head up again, Wolfer slammed it down a second time. This time, a sickening crack rang in the room as the man's skull broke open. A low guttural noise echoed from Wolfer's mouth as he held back his shout, face twisted into a horrific mask and eyes blinded by the red fog. He brought the man's head up a third time. Putting all of his weight behind the slam, Wolfer lunged forwards and smashed the head into the ground, spraying blood and brains all over the floor and himself.

Not wasting any time he got up, dashing towards the door on the side. A voice from behind inquired what was going on. As the door opened and an EXALT operative stepped into the door frame with his pistol drawn, Wolfer was already on him.

Tackling the man from the waist, Wolfer threw himself and the terrorist into the next room. Crashing down on top of the EXALT operative, the man below him let out a muffled grunt as the wind was knocked out of him. Grabbing onto the hand holding the gun, Wolfer twisted hard. With a whimpering scream, the man let go of his gun as the bones in his wrist snapped. Bringing his head down hard, Wolfer smashed the terrorist's nose open.

Getting up to his knees, the assault brought down a massive fist on the man below him. And then another. And another. Blood flew in the air as Wolfer shouted silently, his mouth open and eyes wide. Pouring out everything from within, the assault hammered down relentlessly, finally letting go. The red fog engulfed him completely as he lost sight of the room around him. Fists swinging, Wolfer was taken over by a bloodlust he had never even known existed within him.

Falling back from the disfigured and caved-in face of the EXALT, Wolfer glanced around the room with wide eyes. Finally coming to from his rage, he shuddered and drew in a deep breath. It was lucky there had only been two operatives in today and not three. He wasn't sure he would have noticed a third one before a bullet to the head would've alerted him to the fact.

Clambering up to his feet, Wolfer turned around back into the main room. Hurriedly getting to the table he reached for the laptop. Realizing the condition of his hands, the big man cursed under his breath and headed for the door leading into the corridor. Pulling the body of Taniseth inside he closed the door and wiped his hands on the banger's shirt. With most of the fresh blood wiped off, his hands were still absolutely caked with it. Cursing again, Wolfer turned back towards the table.

Stuffing the laptop and the files into a bag lying on the table, Wolfer slung the strap over his shoulder. Checking he still had the pistol in his pocket he pulled out his knife. Stepping to the heavy back door, he released the lock.

The guards posted outside were completely oblivious to what had been going on inside. The room was well sound-proofed, which was likely the reason EXALT had chosen it to be their operation room in the first place. The man on his right turned around in surprise as the door swung open. Wolfer slashed, and blood sprayed out of the red gash on the man's throat. With a scream-turned-gurgle the man fell on his knees, desperately trying to plug the stream of blood with his hands.

Wheeling around to his left, Wolfer got ready to face the remaining guard. The Neo-Nazi had his pistol halfway drawn and Wolfer stepped close. Grabbing onto his wrist, he turned the gun away and buried the knife into the man's gut. Gazing into the man's face as it twisted in pain he noticed it was one of the men who had gone on patrol with him the other night. Turning the knife around in his stomach in satisfaction, Wolfer pulled it back and sank the blade in again.

A gunshot rang in the early morning as the dying man managed to flick off the safety of his pistol. Cursing loudly, Wolfer pulled the knife out and slit the man's throat from ear-to-ear. Another shot echoed into the air as the man fired aimlessly into the air. Tossing the banger unceremoniously aside, Wolfer took off in a heated run towards the chain-link fence of the backyard. Noticing the gate was locked he jumped on top of one of the cars parked against it and vaulted over the fence, dashing off into the streets beyond.

Running his way through the streets and back alleys of Detroit, Wolfer made his way over to one of the numerous escape vehicles they had set up in the AO. Getting on top of the motorcycle in an abandoned shack, he pulled on a pair of leather gloves over his blood-caked hands and a helmet over his head. Kick starting the bike, he took off towards the extraction zone on the edge of the city.

Driving through the streets, the assault looked for signs of EXALT giving chase. The sun was shining down on the mostly empty streets, the lamp posts and buildings throwing long shadows as Detroit was about to burst to life. As Wolfer approached the extraction zone, black cars barreled onto the road in front of him.

Driving hard towards him on both lanes, the windows rolled down as men masked with red scarves leaned out with machine pistols in hand. Taking a hard turn right, Wolfer drove into the alleys between the tall buildings. Snaking his way through the back alleys, he saw cars block off exits all around him. Cursing inside his helmet, the assault looked frantically for a way out.

A car drove into the alley behind him, sending trashcans flying through the air. The men leaning out of the windows were sending rapid bursts of fire at him as the assault pushed his head down and hit the throttle. Taking a steep turn right, Wolfer brought the bike to a screeching halt as he cursed out loud. Dead end.

Jumping off the bike, Wolfer glanced around the alley. There was a fire escape on the building to his left and he leapt up, catching the low-end of the ladder. Pulling himself up he quickly scaled up to the first level. The car screeched into the alley below him and Wolfer dived through a window on the side of the building, crashing helmet-first into the corridor of the apartment building as the sounds of gunfire exploded behind him.

Scrambling to his feet the assault threw away the helmet. Running down the corridor he took the stairs up, loping his way up story by story. The door to the roof was locked so he pulled his pistol, turning his face away and firing three rounds into the lock. With a resounding kick he sent the door swinging open into the bright sunlight.

Running off to the roof, Wolfer glanced around. The next building across the alley in front of him was on a lower level, and the man stopped for a moment to consider his next move. The EXALT giving him chase would soon be on him. Wolfer froze for a moment as he noticed the distant flapping of a helicopter. His mind made up, he sprinted the last few meters and leapt.

Swinging his hands wildly, the assault let out a loud yell as he flew through the air. Landing on the roof of the next building, Wolfer crashed down into an inelegant roll, knees jolting with the impact. Scrambling back up, he ran onwards as the sounds of the chopper drawing ever closer intensified. And then the sounds of air being beaten into submission filled his ears.

The chopper came up on his left, the side of the aircraft open with an EXALT operative behind a minigun. The weapon spun up and from below the beating of the chopper the deafening crash of a bullet storm broke into the morning air. Wolfer pushed his head down, covering his face with an arm as concrete dust and debris flew into the air around him, the edges of the building being torn apart as the EXALT tried to bring the weapon on target. Dashing desperately towards the air conditioning tower in front of him, Wolfer dived behind the box of metal.

The clanging of metal filled his ears as the minigun punched holes into the cover above him. Covering his head, Wolfer clenched his teeth together. _I can't stay here. I have to run._ Getting ready to bolt, he tensed every muscle in his body.

A massive explosion rang in the air as the minigun fire suddenly stopped. Rolling over and looking towards the chopper, Wolfer saw the husk of the aircraft spin away from the building, crashing away from his sight with a massive tail of flame and smoke trailing behind it. Jumping up, the assault ran to the edge of the building.

On the other side of the street, Orgun was kneeling behind a mailbox. Smoke rose from the rocket launcher on his shoulder as the man let out a wild cheer. Scubaman, DSM and Hypergeek were all taking cover on the edges of the building, laser weapons at the ready. Wolfer glanced around and noticed the ladder of a fire escape to his right. Dashing over he swung to the ladder, sliding his way down. The friction burned away relentlessly at his gloves but he still only stopped twice along the long descent. Jumping off into the alley, Wolfer threw away the smoking gloves, the palms of his hands red and stinging.

"Run on over! We've got you!" Scubaman shouted from across the street, and Wolfer complied.

Pushing his head down, he dashed across the street. DSM was firing her laser strike rifle, keeping the EXALTs that had given Wolfer chase away from the edge of the rooftop. As the covert operative reached the squad, everyone withdrew into the alley behind them, Hypergeek leading the run back with scatter laser raised.

Bursting out from the end of the alley the squad laid eyes on the Skyranger, parked in the middle of Detroit on a small patch of grass that served as a children's soccer field. The ramp lowered and the operatives dashed inside, the aircraft taking off with thrusters blasting in full force.

* * *

A thoroughly exhausted Wolfer scrambled out of the Skyranger and into the hangar bay. He had left the intel unceremoniously lying on the floor of the aircraft. Swiping a sore hand across his face, he pushed past the Skyranger mechanics and the member of the intelligence team. There was no hero's welcome for Wolfer as there had been for Kilroy; it was late in the night in Japan and the honors of the first mission against the new enemy had already been taken. Loping up the stairs to the upper level of the hangar bay, Wolfer got ready to leave when he saw his friend.

Instinct was standing next to the railing, looking at Wolfer with an amused look on his face. "Where're you off to in such a hurry? Almost didn't notice me huh? That's what I get for giving a shit about you I guess."

Wolfer stared at the Nigerian man with weary eyes. Striding over, he grabbed the shorter man into a bear hug. Closing his eyes, Wolfer slammed a hand into his friend's back, over and over again. When Wolfer showed no signs of stopping, Instinct spoke up with a slightly amused and worried tone, "Hey man, what's up? Everything okay?"

Wolfer stepped back, looking at the black man in front of him with an affectionate look. Slamming a hand on his shoulder, Wolfer answered, "It's just good to see you, you know? Come on, spar with me. I feel like I have a hundred pounds of shit inside and I need you to kick it out of me."

Slinging his hand over Instinct's shoulder, Wolfer started towards the corridor. "Hey what the hell man, it's the middle of the night for me! You jet-lagged, selfish piece of shit!" The futile objections of Instinct rang in the empty corridors of the base as they made their way towards the martial arts room.


	30. Chapter 29: Feelings

Chapter 29: Feelings

Kamikaze lay on his medbay bed, face down as usual. His back was recovering from the plasma burns, but it would still take quite some time before he would be able to rest like normal. Stretching his neck on the pillow and turning his eyes, he peered at the television mounted on the opposite wall. The soap opera wasn't really his cup of tea and he hadn't been able to keep up with the twists and turns in the shaky plot over the past few days. Not that it really mattered. Relaxing his neck, Kamikaze laid his head down on the pillow and returned his eyes to the bed next to him.

Squint was propped up against the pillows behind her, smiling widely as the couple on the show swore their everlasting love for each other. The small woman had a nasal cannula on to supply her with oxygen and white gauze ran around her head. A drip was connected to her left arm, but the woman seemed to be in good spirits despite her condition. Turning her head towards Kamikaze, Squint spoke in an excited tone, "Isn't it wonderful they're finally getting together? They're so cute!"

Kamikaze smiled at the eagerness with which she devoted herself to the story. Nodding slightly in agreement, Kamikaze continued to stare at her as she turned her attention back to the TV. Quietly thanking the injuries on his back, Kamikaze was more than content to be able to lie like this; if he was on his back, getting away with staring at Squint would've been a lot harder. Closing his eyes the man laughed silently inside. _You're a grown man, not a teenager stealing peeks at your high school crush._

Opening his eyes again, Kamikaze glanced past Squint. The screen from before had been removed once Squint had come to and beyond her Burncycle was lying on his bed, the short Japanese man focused on his novel. Further down the line of beds, Drake and Kilroy were sitting on Drake's bed. The two assaults had almost recovered with under a week left on their rehabilitation. They would often wander out of the medbay but this morning, they had stayed behind. Kamikaze noticed the two women looking at him with amused grins. Glancing at each other, Kilroy whispered something and drew a giggle out of Drake. Getting up, the women rounded Burncycle's bed and made their way over to Squint.

"How are you sweetheart?" Drake inquired, leaning over and giving Squint's hair an affectionate caress. Looking up, the young woman smiled and greeted her two seniors. Kilroy looked up from the scout and stared Kamikaze in the eye, lifting a knowing eyebrow. Kamikaze responded with a small shrug, smiling a quiet smile at the woman.

"It's been fine, really! I'm feeling better every day. And Kamikaze here is nice enough to let me decide what to watch! I mean, not that it probably helps with my recovery but it's nice", Squint was eagerly explaining to Drake, the caramel-skinned woman smiling down at her and nodding understandingly.

Kilroy turned to Squint, putting a hand on her own cheek and speaking in a most concerned of voices, "But is that really such a good idea? I mean, surely a big man like our FUBAR here gets bored watching these ladies' soap operas all the time?"

The slightest of reds rose to Squint's cheeks as she stumbled with her words, "No but, you see, ah, he likes them. Right Kamikaze?" Turning away from the women, Squint glanced over at Kamikaze for support.

"It's fine, Kilroy. I don't really care for TV so Squint can watch whatever makes her happy. Plus, I think I'm actually starting to like this one", the man responded laconically, staring at Kilroy with unimpressed eyes.

Hearing Kamikaze say "whatever makes her happy", the red spread over Squint's face. She turned her eyes back to the TV and pretended it was the ongoing scene that got the reaction out of her. Drake put a hand over her mouth and turned away, shoulders shaking up and down ever so slightly while Kilroy ran a hand through her hair, looking up into the ceiling with a small grin on her face, feigning ignorance to the situation she had incited.

"Well we're taking off. See you guys later!" Kilroy lobbed, turning away and waving them goodbye. Drake followed suit, waving a hand over her shoulder, the other one still on her mouth as the shaking of her shoulders got more and more frantic.

Kamikaze followed their backs out of the room before turning his eyes back to Squint. "Aren't they just the nicest people?" he stated sarcastically and Squint muttered her agreement, her eyes fixed tightly on the TV. The red on her face hadn't receded yet, and the utterly abashed features of Squint drew a smile to Kamikaze's lips. She was so cute when embarrassed.

They continued to spend time just like any other day: Squint watching the TV and Kamikaze lazily following the shows, but the ongoing show on Squint's face was much, much dearer to his heart.

* * *

"All I'm saying is, that's not even what emo means!" Iku voiced his heated complaints while cleaning his ballistic sniper rifle. Kungtotte was sitting on the chair next to him, the lock and magazine of his weapon spread in a neat row on the floor in front of him. His brown hands were glimmering with oil as he focused on scrubbing down the weapon.

"I told you to just ignore him. You know it's not the first time Wolfer has done something inconsiderate", the South African sighed, tired of having the same conversation over and over again.

Iku had been promoted to corporal soon after the alien abductor operation where Foogleman had been killed in action. The Japanese sniper had blamed himself for Foogleman's death, missing crucial shots that could have saved the scout's life had they connected. Could have.

Iku wasn't the most social of XCOM's operatives to begin with and the incident hadn't exactly changed that as the sniper had started to keep to himself more than before. It hadn't been many days after the operation when Wolfer had picked up on his withdrawal and good-naturedly nicknamed the man Emo, oblivious to the blame Iku had been placing on himself.

"And my hair! It just covered my forehead; it wasn't even REMOTELY close to my eyes!" Iku continued on, falling well behind Kungtotte on the progress with his weapon. The Japanese man had shaven his dark hair after being bestowed with the name, the buzz cut hair quite ill-fitting for him.

Kungtotte shook his head quietly, listening to the constant stream of complaints. Iku took things way too seriously some times; not that Kungtotte was a flighty man himself. It was the serious outlook Iku had on things that had drawn Kungtotte to form a friendship with him in the first place. One could only take so much of the hijinks from Merlin and co. before needing a break. Not that he didn't enjoy his roommates' company; quite the opposite, they were near and dear to Kungtotte's heart in a fatherly kind of way. But even a father still needs friends besides his kids.

"Do you still blame yourself for Foogle?" Kungtotte spoke up in-between the complaints. Iku stopped in his tracks and glanced over at his friend. His eyes became distant as he looked away, returning to work on his weapon.

"Every day", came the response from Iku. Scrubbing the lock of his sniper rifle he continued, "I could've saved her. Too many missed shots. Killing those floaters, maybe Kilroy would've still had ammo left..."

His account on the flow of the battle was cut short by Kungtotte. "Maybe. Could've. You know those are useless words on the battlefield Iku. You faced an overwhelming force of enemies and made it out with only one fatality. As much as I miss her, I know Foogle would be happy with that. You need to stop blaming yourself. Just look at Renzol. Everyone knows how she felt about Frag and she's now the number one rocketeer on the outfit."

Iku halted his scrubbing, listening to Kungtotte speak. Turning towards his friend, Iku looked him solemnly in the eye. "Who said she ever stopped blaming herself?" the Japanese man uttered, never breaking eye contact.

Something about Iku's statement made Kungtotte feel uneasy. Turning away from his friend, the South African brought a hand up to massage the nape of his neck. Realizing what he was about to do, he pulled the greasy hand away with a sigh. "Fine. But please stop complaining about the nickname all the time. You're starting to sound like a broken record, Emo."

The hated nickname made Iku's jaw drop in surprise, a smug grin rising to Kungtotte's face. Letting out a heartfelt laugh the family man returned to cleaning his weapon, Iku shaking his head in disbelief at the sudden gibe.


	31. Chapter 30: The Picture

Chapter 30: The Picture

Cell and Wolfer were locked in a sparring match on one of the mats in the martial arts room. From the sidelines, DSM, Jive and Iku looked on as the huge assault and sizeable gunner tested their skills. It was one of the training sessions the South Africans of XCOM liked to take every once in a while. Jive had joined DSM, Cell and Wolfer who had just arrived back from an operation in Mexico. Even though the training sessions had been started by the South Africans, it was no private club: if somebody wanted to join them, they were more than welcome to. It had been DSM who invited Iku over after the operation and with nothing better to do, the sniper had decided it was high time to get some extra close combat training done. Plus, maybe some more socializing would help him lose the nickname.

"I'm going to be so rusty", Iku remarked to DSM next to him. Turning towards the Japanese man, the scout stood eye-to-eye with him.

"Don't you start giving your excuses now. You're here and I'm gonna kick your ass", the woman jeered with a tilt of her head and a wide grin on her face. The usual unenthusiastic demeanor of DSM was gone as she got a chance to lay it on Iku. Giving the woman an unimpressed glance, the sniper looked back towards the ongoing fight.

Wolfer was easily the favorite and Cell really was the only candidate for him to spar with from the South Africans when it came to hand-to-hand. Cell was tall and ripped for a woman, but her chances still seemed nonexistent against the hunk of meat that was Wolfer. Retreating from the assault's onslaught, Cell kept her guard up as she diverted the strikes aimed at her body.

Charging his opponent, Wolfer got up close to grapple the gunner. Hands closing over Cell's wrist and shoulder, the big assault looked to throw her down to the ground. Spreading her legs, Cell stumbled backwards as she struggled to maintain her balance. Throwing her arms wide she managed to break the hold Wolfer had on her, quickly jumping away from the man. "Not bad", the assault uttered, wiping a hand across his mouth and starting towards Cell once again, the woman circling around to not get pushed off the mat.

Closing in with a blocked jab, Wolfer followed up with a kick towards Cell's hip. Quick as a viper, Cell grabbed onto the man's leg and pulled backwards, putting all her strength to twisting and throwing him. Losing his balance, Wolfer cursed loudly as he crashed onto the mat. Rolling away from any follow ups, the big man grinned eagerly at the challenge. Across from him Cell's brow was furrowed deep in concentration as she gave it her all to defeat her opponent.

Taking the offensive, Cell struck towards Wolfer's face. Forcing the man backwards, she focused her assault on the man's upper body and head, drawing his guard ever upwards. Seeing her moment come, the gunner dived in, tackling Wolfer at the waist. Expecting the attack, the assault let out a massive roar as he grabbed Cell just below her breasts and shifted his weight backwards, using the momentum the gunner was already putting into the tackle. In a clean throw, he slung Cell up through the air as both of the fighters came crashing down hard on the mat, Cell taking the brute force of the impact on her side, knocking the wind out of her.

Rolling over to her back, the woman gasped for air with a disgruntled groan. Accepting the hand from Wolfer, she got up to one knee and looked at the grinning man from under her brow. Wolfer let out a heartfelt laugh and slapped the gunner on the shoulder, bellowing his approval, "You're one tough lady I'll give ya that! Almost kicked my ass!"

Taking a sharp breath, Cell managed to mutter _"Next time"_ under her breath. DSM turned to Jive, gesturing towards the pair on the mat and explaining to the newcomer, "You still wonder why we call her Tectonic after that crash?" Jive looked at the scout, her dark-skinned face turning to a smile as she nodded her understanding.

The two fighters joined the rest of the gang on the side, Cell doubling over and reaching for her water bottle. Wolfer was rolling and stretching his shoulders while he turned towards the rest of the operatives. With the rush of the fight gone, a more serious look had appeared into his eyes. "You ever think of going back to SA when this is all over?" the assault voiced his question with uncharacteristic graveness.

DSM snorted in contempt, "That shit hole? Haven't been there since I was six and I've got no reason to go back." Jive muttered an indecisive maybe and Cell remained silent, straightening her back as the wind returned to her.

"Yo, what about you Cell?" Wolfer inquired and turned to the woman, pestering her for an answer. Cell looked at the man with a furrowed brow, clearly out of her comfort zone.

"I'm with DSM here. No reason nor desire to go back", the woman uttered, taking another swig from her water bottle. Wolfer looked down towards the floor, scratching the back of his head in puzzlement. It wasn't the start to the conversation he had been hoping for.

Looking back up at Cell, Wolfer suddenly realized something. "Hey, how come you were so pissed off at Zim then? If you don't give a rat's ass about SA that is", the man challenged Cell, causing the woman to freeze in place.

Glancing at Wolfer with hard and cold eyes, Cell turned away from the group and picked up her towel. "None of your goddamn business, Wolfer. I'm off", the woman stated in a low and harsh tone, striding out of the martial arts room.

"Hey, what the hell?" the assault exclaimed, turning to the others with a confused look on his face. "What is wrong with the people in this outfit?" the big man complained indignantly, his attempts at having a conversation about their home country dead in its tracks. DSM responded with an uninterested shrug and Jive glanced away from the loud man, uncomfortable with the sudden change in atmosphere.

Shaking his head, Wolfer turned to Iku. "Okay, well at least we can still train some more. Come on, Emo. Let's do this."

The sniper looked at Wolfer with disbelief in his eyes. Speaking up, he voiced his concerns to the big man, "Really, me versus you? I think I'd rather try DSM or Jive here." Wolfer just stared at Iku for a moment, mad at himself for not realizing what an obviously unfair match it would've been and mad at Iku for turning down his offer so bluntly. Muttering his disappointed agreement, the big man grabbed his gear and stormed out of the martial arts room, shaking his head the whole way out.

DSM lifted her eyebrows and crossed her arms across her chest. "Well, that escalated quickly", the scout commented while Jive and Iku shuffled their feet uncomfortably in the wakes of the awkward conversations.

* * *

Cell pushed open the door to her room. Glancing around, she silently thanked God no one was there. The last thing she needed was having to deal with Orgun or Scuba. Pushing to her closet, she dug the keys from her pocket and unlocked the door.

Tossing her training gear to the bottom of the closet, she knew she'd soon regret not taking a shower right after training. But with the emotional storm that was once again brewing inside of her, she hadn't wanted to take the risk of somebody chasing after her and catching her in the locker room. Shaking her head, Cell reached for the small box where she kept her personal items.

Flicking the box open, she moved the few pieces of jewelry and other small items around, searching for something. Lifting her wallet she saw what she was looking for in the very back. Picking up the small photograph, Cell closed the box and her closet, walking across the room to her bottom bunk.

She was a hardened soldier already at age twenty-five. Most people were surprised to learn of her age, positive she had to be well in her thirties. That's what joining the French Foreign Legion as a teenager can do to you.

Sitting down on her bed, Cell looked at the picture in her hand. Drawing a stuttering breath she closed her eyes and hung her head down. Covering her face with her other hand, she felt a lump form at the back of her throat. _Why? Why now? Why should I care now?_

Opening her eyes again, they glimmered wetly with tears. Staring at the picture in her hand, Cell fought against the storm that was raging inside of her, biting back the tears.

_Why? After all these years, why now?_


	32. Chapter 31: Family

Chapter 31: Family

Author's note: Sorry Morgan fans, but no covert op for her. Those 6k word chapters take over six hours to write even when I have it planned out, and I had no ideas for her as she is still such an underdeveloped character.

* * *

A large crowd had gathered in the operatives' break room to celebrate their latest victory over EXALT. Morgan had returned from a successful covert operation in France where the intelligence teams of XCOM and the Council had tracked an EXALT cell to an isolated location in the countryside. With the help of Strike One, they had stormed the perimeter and claimed valuable data from the terrorist cell.

Van Doorn was sitting on the counter with a pint of lager in front of him, recounting one of his war stories to the people around him. Awo was leaning against the counter listening intently to the experienced soldier's tale and Daishi was sitting on the other side of the General, smiling her polite smile as she followed the story.

"So there I was, standing face to face with this Afghani kid pointing his AK at me. So I lower my pistol and speak to him in Dari. I ask him why he's fighting. I can see he's just a kid; couldn't have been older than fifteen. He hesitates and the barrel of his rifle starts to hang. So I ask him what he wants: a free country, a loving family, honorable death. And I say to him, I can't give you any of those. So what do I do?" Van Doorn glanced at the people gathered around him, pausing for a while before continuing on.

"I lay my pistol on the ground and slowly walk up to this kid. I can see he's terrified, doesn't want to be there, doesn't know what to do. So I take off my beret and place it on his head. I put a hand on his shoulder and tell him he can be the real peacekeeper here, all he has to do is put down the gun and I'll make sure no one gets hurt. And as far as I know, the kid is still alive and well to this day." Finishing up his story, Van Doorn drew _aaaaawws_ and sighs from the women around him and laughs from the men.

Awo shaked his head in amusement at the man before speaking up, "So what, you saying it was the beret that did it?" Taking a sip from his beer, Van Doorn smiled behind the pint. Laying down his drink he turned towards Awo with a mysterious laughter glimmering in his eyes.

"A man's hats hold many powers, lieutenant. A man must have a hat for every occasion, for you never know when you might need one." Seeing the perplexed look on Awo's face, Van Doorn let out a booming laugh and slammed a hand on the infantryman's back. "Don't mind me, sonny. Just the ramblings of an old man with one too many beers under his belt for the night."

Daishi leant forwards on the counter, smiling at the General. "They really should've made you an officer straight away, Mister Van Doorn. I can just see the aura of leadership and charisma surrounding you", the scout praised, blushing a little as she realized she'd just blurted out something so incredibly cheesy. Next to her DSM buried her face in her hands, sinking on the counter in second-hand embarrassment.

With a hearty laugh, the General turned over to Daishi and put an arm over the scout's shoulders. Leaning in closer, the old warhorse spoke in a soft tone, "I appreciate your words kiddo, but I wouldn't trust an outfit that throws a newcomer straight to the top, no matter the background. I'm more than happy to work my way up, believe you me." Daishi was sitting arrow-straight with her feet and hands together, flushed red all over.

"Oh dear, I-I'm so sorry. I don't know why I…" the tall woman stumbled over her words, drawing a friendly laugh from Van Doorn. Letting go of her silly embarrassment, Daishi joined the old man in his laughter and signaled for Orgun to get her another drink.

At the end of the counter, Morgan was recounting her experience on the field to Kilroy and Drake. The two assaults had finally recovered from their wounds and were eager to learn how their junior had fared out there. Morgan was smiling confidently as she recounted the by-the-numbers operation, Kilroy getting the occasional sneer and gibe from Drake for how horribly wrong her own covert operation had gone.

In the lounge part of the room Medve was sitting on a sofa next to Cell, with Hypergeek and Vherid filling out the armchairs facing the sofa. Everyone had a cigar lit up with glasses of bourbon on hand. Complaints from Hypergeek filled their little circle as the Belgian engineer made known his disappointment in the bastard drink known as bourbon.

"You _certainement_ must have whiskey. The real stuff, made in the Old World. None of this ameritrash we have here." Taking a sip of his bourbon, he wrinkled his nose in disapproval. Cell and Medve exchanged knowing looks with each other, unimpressed by the elitism the engineer was displaying.

A coughing fit from Vherid interrupted Hypergeek's complaints as the Mexican sniper struggled with his cigar. Slamming a hand on his chest the diminutive man gasped for air, the glass of bourbon in his hand shaking unsteadily. Finally calming his breathing down, Vherid managed to speak up, "Goddamn, how do you people smoke this stuff? You can have it back, it's wasted on me." Offering the cigar back to Medve, the lieutenant furrowed his brow disapprovingly.

"You can't just snuff it out now. You lit it up, you smoke it. That's how it goes." Cell nodded approvingly next to her fellow gunner, taking a long drag from her cigar and puffing out shaky smoke circles.

Vherid stared at the two of them disbelievingly before glancing away and opening his mouth, "Yeah right, snigger at Hypergeek and his whiskey. You goddamn nerds." Medve continued to stare at the sniper with a furrowed brow, but Cell broke into a fit of coughs as Vherid's comment caught her off-guard. Letting out a hearty laugh, she shook her head a little. Vherid definitely had sharp eyes and feel for the situation.

In the back of the room the three Germans Stoli, Zim and Wootastic were locked in a darts match against the South Africans Wolfer, Kungtotte and Jive. They were the two most represented nationalities on the outfit and playful competition often arose between them. The dartboard was custom-made by Petete, the Dutch engineer having a knack for painting and putting things together. A sheet with the face of a muton painted on it was stretched across the dartboard with the wiring indicating the scoring holding the sheet in place.

Stoli threw her arms up in the air as she scored another bullseye, drawing unbelieving groans from the South Africans. Zim and Wootastic shared a high-five as the Germans pulled further ahead in the match. The losers would have to serve drinks for the victors for the rest of the night. Turning to taunt Wolfer, Stoli stuck out her hips and gave the man a teasing wink, drawing a curse from the man as he turned away.

After the crude approaches the assault had made on her during the first few days of the conflict, Stoli had made it exceedingly clear what was okay with her and what wasn't. Having learned his lesson, Wolfer was a lot tamer and easier to handle these days, and the female engineer loved teasing the big man. They'd become good friends as she had come to understand Wolfer better: the man rarely had ill intentions even when it seemed like it and a swift kick in the shin would settle him down in no time.

The break room continued to bustle with activity as the off-duty troops got some respite from the alien war: drinking, playing and chatting the night away with the people who had become like a second family to them.


	33. Chapter 32: Wounded

Chapter 32: Wounded

"Poor kid", Van Doorn muttered in a regretful voice as the paramedics wheeled Prowler away from the Skyranger landing pad and up the ramp leading to the upper level. The private had been struck hard by an outsider's plasma carbine on the small crashed UFO operation they were returning from. People from the engineering team rushed into the Skyranger, carefully bringing out the intact alien plasma rifle and grenade the squad had recovered from a muton Prowler had stunned with the newly engineered Arc thrower.

Awo scratched the back of his head, regarding the alien artifacts with a contemplative look in his eyes. "A shame about that big green bastard as well. I hear the containment is mere days from being finished. Getting away too easy by dying", the infantryman muttered, following after Van Doorn as the squad started their ascent up the stairs.

Van Doorn glanced towards Awo with a small smile on his lips. "I'm sure we'll get more chances to stick E.T. in the pokey. Let's just be glad Prowler will be okay", the Doorn uttered, giving Awo the uncomfortable feeling he was being judged.

Hunterhr had been part of the operation and on the scene to stabilize Prowler as he had gone down to the last defender of the UFO. He was XCOM's top medic and Van Doorn had hit it off with the former UN peacekeeper straight away. When Hunterhr had said Prowler would survive, the General hadn't had any reason to doubt the matter.

The squad continued their way towards the arsenal and the locker room while Prowler was hurried down the corridors of the base and into the medbay.

* * *

"What do you think happened?" Squint asked with a concerned look on her face. The Skyranger paramedics had hurried through the medbay with Prowler on a stretcher as they had made their way to the operating room. Kamikaze shook his head in response, leaning back against his pillows now that the scene had settled down.

"I don't know. I hear it was a small crashed UFO. Should've been by-the-numbers", the man replied, shifting his eyes back towards Squint. The look on the woman's face made his heart ache a little. "I'm sure he'll be fine. Hunterhr was on the op with him", Kamikaze tried to console Squint, earning a grateful look from the woman as she forced a weak smile to her lips.

Squint closed her eyes and rested her head against the pillows behind her. "On your first operation… what a shame. This was bad enough for me, I can't imagine how he's going to feel if he wakes up", the small woman muttered. Opening her eyes she looked Kamikaze in the eye, "When he wakes up", she corrected herself, looking for confirmation from the man in the bed next to her.

"When he wakes up", Kamikaze agreed solemnly, this time drawing a genuine smile from the woman. Somewhat concerned over her words, Kamikaze followed up, "Are you afraid of recovering and getting back out there?"

The small woman let out a deep sigh as she brought her hands up to her temples, giving herself a small rub. "I don't know. It seems so far away still that I don't even want to think about it. But we're getting better, day by day. Inevitably. I just want to stop thinking." Squint's voice trailed off as she pulled her knees up to her chest and gave herself a tight hug.

Kamikaze looked at the woman with sad eyes. He wanted to say something to make it all better, but he didn't have the words. Did such words even exist to begin with? Or was it something she had to come to terms with herself? With a heavy heart, Kamikaze looked on as the woman next to him quietly consoled herself.

Turning her head a little, Squint peeked at Kamikaze. With a small voice, she whispered, "You must think I'm silly. You almost died but it didn't stop you from getting back out there and risking your life for me. You must think I'm a silly, stupid little girl."

Kamikaze's heart jumped at the words. Was she that deeply wounded inside? Or was she trying to take distance from him, the connection and feelings between them now undeniable to Kamikaze as they must have been to her? He couldn't let that happen. Not anymore. A heavy lump materialized at the back of his throat as he opened his mouth, scrambling for the words.

"No. I don't think that at all. It's scary. It was scary for me too." The gunner stopped for a moment, looking away from Squint as he looked for the words inside. "It wasn't easy to get out there and tend to you. I almost didn't do it. But I just had to. I couldn't leave you dying out there." Regaining his composure, Kamikaze looked Squint in the eye. "And I'm glad I didn't. I'm glad you're alive, Squint."

Squint answered his stare with a lost expression. Her arms were crossed over her knees as she was resting her head against them. She was smiling a forlorn smile, tears glimmering in her eyes. Pushing the blanket off of himself, Kamikaze got up with a pained grunt. His back screamed at him as the newly formed skin and scar tissue stretched with the movement, but the man continued on regardless. In three shaky strides, he made his way over to Squint's bed. The small woman followed him with her eyes, the tears now rolling freely down her cheeks.

Sitting down next to her, Kamikaze stretched out an arm. Squint turned and shuffled over, resting her head against his shoulder. Kamikaze closed his arm around her small frame and gave her arm a soft caress. "It'll be all right, Squint. I'm here for you", he said in a hushed tone, gently consoling the small scout as the tears ran down her cheeks. The wounds on the outside would heal with time. The wounds on the inside; who can tell?


	34. Chapter 33: R&R

Chapter 33: R&amp;R

Drake was smiling widely as she dug about her closet. The agonizing wait of rehabilitation and return to rotation had finally ended and she'd been given R&amp;R out of the base, to boot. Finding the top she had been looking for she pulled the military tank-top off of her with glee and donned the low-cut red top. Turning to examine her figure in the mirror on the inside of her closet's door, her good spirits were dampened a bit.

She was wearing tight jeans which highlighted her fit body in just the right places. The red top was one of her favorites, but her fears had been proven right after all. Furrowing her brow and pursing her lips in disappointment, Drake observed her chest from different angles, hoping in vain the issue could be resolved.

The low-cut top revealed quite a bit of cleavage. Her breasts weren't huge but they were ample and firm, and that was what she had always loved about the red top; it brought out her goods just enough to not make it slutty nor remain overly modest. But the light ripples that ran across her caramel chest didn't exactly match the image she'd had in mind. With a sigh Drake rubbed a hand across the scarred tissue, suddenly overcome by a wave of sadness.

"God-fucking-dammit", the assault muttered, pulling the top off and tossing it unceremoniously into her closet. Foogleman's last operation had left deep scars in her, both physical and emotional. Drake put a hand over her eyes and shook her head as she tried to banish the dark thoughts from her mind. Taking a deep breath, she steadied her emotions and began scouring her closet for another top.

Pulling out a white halter top, Drake regarded the garment with approval. It was open at the shoulders, so she would need a strapless bra to go with it. Finding what she was looking for she quickly changed into her new clothes, turning to regard her reflection once again.

_Much better_, she thought approvingly as she looked at the woman staring back at her in the mirror. The top tied in behind her neck, covering her chest completely from the front. The fabric tightened to her body below her breasts, the rest of it flowing freely down to her belly. Taking a small test sway, Drake moved her body to imaginary club music. The hem of the garment swung around, exposing her belly button if she put enough force behind the movement. Grinning excitedly, she turned to regard her profile from the side. Her mood was already picking up.

Her shoulder hadn't been spared from enemy fire either, the faint trace of a plasma burn engraved onto her skin. _What doesn't kill us makes us stronger, huh, _she mused to herself. The garment left only the very top of her back open, concealing her strapless bra perfectly. Satisfied with the outfit Drake grabbed her black purse from the closet, already packed with the necessities for the coming night.

Heading out into the corridor, she made her way over to Scubaman's and Orgun's room. Well, it wasn't technically Scubaman's room anymore with the infantryman's promotion to lieutenant. Even though the Latino slept in his officer's quarters as decided by the base's rules, he still practically lived in his old room. No one in the room seemed to be even remotely uncomfortable with the officer still staying with them: this was Scubaman we are talking about after all. If not for the insignia on his shoulder, it would've been impossible to know the light-hearted jokester was an officer with a responsible position in the outfit.

The door to the room was open and Drake stepped into the doorframe. Scubaman was leaning against the end of Orgun's bunk. The Latino was wearing blue jeans and a Hard Rock Café Buenos Aires T-shirt with an unbuttoned casual shirt blouse on top. His hair was cropped short, bringing out his handsome, chiseled features. Orgun was staring up at the man with an inconsolable look and as Drake entered the doorframe he cried out, gesturing towards the assault.

"See! How is it fair these besties get to go out together but they separate us! It's a travesty I say!" From the middle of the room Kilroy let out a mocking laugh. She was wearing a tight white T-shirt of her favorite band and denim shorts. Over her shirt she had a baggy denim jacket and her casual rocker-style was topped off by her favorite aviator sunglasses perched in her brown hair.

Walking over to Drake she took her friend in an embrace, turning over to Orgun and sticking her tongue out at the man. Morgan and Cell looked on from their bunks in amusement and Merlin, who had been lounging near Cell's bunk, stepped towards the two assaults. Taking Kilroy and Drake into an affectionate embrace, she whispered with some regret in her voice, "Have enough fun out there for me too, okay?"

Drake patted the woman on the back, looking her in the eye with sympathy and promising they would. Merlin kissed them goodbye and retreated back into the room. Looking towards the rest of the people present, Drake and Kilroy waved them goodbye. Turning to leave, the goodbyes ringing from the room carried them out into the corridor. Turning back towards the room, Kilroy raised her voice in exasperation, "Come on _El Dickhead,_ time to leave your boyfriend behind and get going!"

Scubaman laughed as he tried to detach himself from Orgun who was giving quite the impressive performance of eternal love. The man was on his knees and squeezing tears from his eyes, clutching at the hem of the Latino's shirt. "I said, get off me you big baby! It's just for one night!" Scuba exclaimed cheerfully, knocking Orgun gently over the head with his elbow. The Irishman finally let go, staring at the man with a pout. Shouting his goodbye to the people in the room, Scubaman joined the assaults in the corridor as they started their way towards the main entrance of the base.

"So, finally out of the base huh! What do you reckon girls, are we gonna have fun or not?" Scubaman uttered eagerly, his gait light and full of excitement. Drake and Kilroy had their arms over each other's shoulder and waist as they smiled at Scubaman, just as excited to finally have some time out of the conflict as the merry infantryman.

"We are", Kilroy answered with a straight face, glancing over at Drake. The Indian woman vocalized her agreement, nodding away, "Definitely. Would be criminal to not have, don't you agree Sheriff?" Kilroy voiced her agreement, keeping the charade going.

"Better watch out, lieutenant. Fun Sheriff Kilroy will throw you in the fun cell if you don't comply. Or wait, is it the anti-fun cell?" A perplexed look appeared on Drake's face as she kept the game going, drawing laughs from Scuba and Kilroy. In high spirits, the group continued to make their way towards the exit and the helicopter that would take them to their R&amp;R in Nagoya, Japan.

* * *

The helicopter had brought them over to one of the Council's bases near Nagoya. Stepping out onto the asphalt of the military establishment, the operatives looked around. The morning had turned to noon and the June sun bore down on them relentlessly. The Japanese soldiers around the base seemed to pay no attention to them: it was almost like the operatives didn't even exist.

"Am I out on another covert op again or is this actually happening?" Kilroy wondered out loud. Glancing around the open area surrounded by barracks and hangars, Drake spotted the car they had been told about.

"Over there!" she shouted, pointing towards a low red convertible on the side of one of the buildings. The three operatives made their way over, sunglasses on and the women's hair tussled about by the wind. A serious-looking Japanese man was standing next to the driver's side of the car. As the operatives approached the vehicle, the man gave a curt bow and opened the back door for Kilroy and Drake.

The women exchanged a merry glance with each other and thanked the man, climbing to the seats in the back. Scubaman rounded the car and jumped over the door to ride shotgun. The chauffeur got on without any questions, starting up the engine. "To Nagoya!" Kilroy exclaimed from the back seat, throwing her arm out and pointing towards whatever vague direction she thought Nagoya might be at. The chauffeur gave her an understanding nod and took off, drawing wild cheers from the girls in the back seat and an excited laugh from Scuba.

Getting onto the road, the operatives cherished the feel of the wind on their skin. Drake's hair had gotten quite long, reaching almost to her shoulders, and she enjoyed the feeling of the wind pushing her hair back. As soon as they approached the first store on the road side, Scubaman signaled for their driver to pull over. Jumping out of the car he took off, shouting over his shoulder he'd be back in a couple minutes.

The man soon returned with two plastic bags in tow. Dumping one of them between the girls, Scuba got back in his seat with a satisfied grin on his face. The chauffeur started up the engine and they were off on the road once again, Kilroy and Drake digging into the bag excitedly.

With an approving grin, Drake pulled out a cider while Kilroy cracked open a beer can. Scuba was fiddling with something in the front seat, digging around in his bag. "Music, you dumbass!" Kilroy shouted with glee and Scuba complied. Flicking through the Japanese pop stations, he found one playing classic western rock. With _Highway to Hell_ blasting out of the stereo, Drake and Kilroy let out a loud cheer as they raised their drinks in a toast.

"Alright, try this out girls!" Scuba yelled out merrily, turning around and offering the two women plastic mugs filled with colorful drinks. Kilroy lifted a doubtful eyebrow, picking up the offered mug.

"What is it?" the woman shouted over the blasting of the music and the humming of the air and engine.

Scuba smiled mysteriously, lifting his sunglasses and giving her a wink. "Señor Scubaman's love elixir, _mi amor_", the man spoke in a husked voice, just loud enough to carry over to Kilroy. The assault lowered her head, giving the man an unimpressed look over the rim of her sunglasses.

"Bottoms up!" Drake exclaimed, raising her plastic mug in a small toast before downing the drink eagerly. Kilroy followed suit, raising her eyebrows approvingly.

"Your love juice ain't bad, I'll give you that señor Ding Donger", Kilroy yelled at Scuba, earning a hearty laugh from the man. The Latino reached into his plastic bag again, tossing something into the back seat. Letting out a surprised cuss, Kilroy caught the item as it bumped into her, saving it from tumbling over the seats and into the road behind them.

She regarded the pack of cigarettes in her hand with an incredulous look. "What the hell Scuba? Why do you think this is a good idea?" she shouted at the infantryman. Drake leaned over to take a look at what she was holding, wrinkling her nose in disapproval.

Scuba threw his head back and let out another laugh. Turning back towards the girls he exclaimed merrily, "Tonight is the night of many bad decisions, Kilroy! Live the life to tell the tale afterwards! We are going all out tonight!"

Kilroy responded with a nonchalant shrug, opening the pack and sticking a smoke between her lips. Offering the pack up for Drake, the oriental woman regarded her with a doubtful look. Regardless, she reached over and plucked one from the pack. "You ever smoked?" Kilroy asked her friend as Scuba tossed a lighter onto the back seat.

"Occasionally when out and about", Drake responded, accepting the light from Kilroy as she shielded the flame with her hand. Taking a drag from the cigarette, Drake let out a small cough as the bitter smoke hit her lungs. It had been a long time since her last one and she wasn't entirely certain this was a good idea.

Kilroy lit herself up and took a slow, long drag. Falling back against her seat, the woman let out a satisfied sigh as she let the smoke out through her nose. "I used to be a chain-smoker back when I was a teenager. Merlin's gonna be so pissed at Scuba", the woman uttered, earning an amused glance from Drake.

As they continued their way towards Nagoya, the drinks in their hands got drained and replaced with new ones. Music blasted from the stereo and as _Paradise City_ came on, Scuba led the girls into a passionate if ear-piercing rendition of the classic. As the operatives slowly yet steadily gained steam from the intoxicating drinks and feeling of freedom, the bitter smoke of the cigarettes started to burn less and less and feel better and better. Nagoya was fast approaching in the afternoon sunlight, and the thought of a good restaurant followed by a heated night club was enough to drive the last of the weariness and stress of the alien war out of their minds and bodies.

* * *

The music in the club pulsed vibrantly as the mass of bodies on the dance floor moved to the beat, the smoky air highlighted by a brilliant array of colors. Drake and Kilroy were in the midst of it all, bodies swaying back and forth as they danced the night away.

Kilroy had left her jacked in the cloakroom and her hair was disheveled, face glimmering with sweat. Spinning around, Drake ground herself against the brunette, going down low with her arms in the air, swaying back and forth like an Indian goddess. Kilroy responded, following her movements and giving her ass a firm squeeze, drawing a wild laugh from her friend. Spinning back around to face her, Drake grinned and bit at the air, earning another slap on her ass.

They had long since lost count of the number of drinks they'd downed, and it was showing. Continuing to strut their stuff on the dance floor, the two assaults earned looks from the men and women around them, some of them trying to join in. Unwelcome approaches and hands were met with angry looks and twisted wrists from Kilroy, her no-nonsense attitude driving them away.

Shouting fruitlessly over the blasting music, Drake swung her head back towards the counter. Kilroy nodded her agreement and the two women made their way through the heaving mass, breaking out from the dance floor and scaling the few steps up to the surrounding club area. Small tables littered the dark room and the women made their way over to one of the many counters on the side.

Jamming themselves in-between the people on the counter, Kilroy signaled at the bartender. The man was going through the customers on the counter in order and ignored the brunette assault. Kilroy turned towards Drake, rolling her eyes in exasperation. To further her point, she grabbed onto her breasts and lifted them up for Drake's inspection, her expression yelling _LOOK AT THESE_, drawing a laugh from her friend. Shaking her head Kilroy turned back towards the counter, waiting for her turn.

A tap on her shoulder got her attention as Drake pointed towards the end of the counter. Scubaman was locked in a passionate kiss with one of the locals, a true vision of a Japanese woman wearing a revealing dress. The man's hands were roaming all over her back and ass, the Latino leaning in to whisper soft promises of passion in her ear every once in a while.

Kilroy regarded the pair for a while before turning back to Drake. She lifted her eyebrows at her friend and Drake leaned in close, shouting gleefully over the music, "Looks like _El Zorro_ is about to score!" Kilroy burst into laughter, grabbing her friend under her arm and turning back to look at Scuba. The man had noticed the laughing operatives staring at him and was looking back with a smirk on his lips. Giving them a wink, the man returned his attention to the woman in front of him.

The bartender finally arrived in front of the girls and Kilroy yelled their order of two mojitos at the man. The ripped Japanese man with half of his head clean-shaven nodded his understanding, turning around to make the ladies their drinks. Drake started to dig around in her purse but Kilroy stopped her with a hand placed on her wrist. Silently mouthing "_I'll pay"_ at her friend, Kilroy pulled out a stack of yens from her own purse.

As the man returned with their drinks, she offered an excessive tip to the man. Signaling at the bartender's eyes and then lifting her breasts again, Kilroy drew a laugh from the man as he understood her point. Nodding and mouthing a thank you at the girls, he turned towards the next customer. Kilroy grabbed their drinks as they headed back out onto the dance floor, this time sticking to the edge of the crowd with drinks on hand.

The night stretched on as the two assaults took everything out of the occasion. Eventually the dance floor started to thin out as the last call approached and the girls joined the trickle of people headed for the cloakroom. Grabbing Kilroy's jacket, they stepped out into the dark night.

The city's lights illuminated the streets as the weary women teetered down the walkway. Exceptionally drunk and already well on their way down, their hair were a mess and the gentle June air was a welcome refreshment on their sweaty bodies. Coming to a halt, Kilroy dug a small flask out of her purse, earning a pained groan from Drake.

"Come on, girlfriend", the brunette muttered, grabbing Drake by her hand and pulling her towards a car parked on the side of the road. Clambering up onto the hood, Kilroy slid over and rested against the windshield. Drake let out a drunken giggle, following her friend up onto the car. Popping the flask open, Kilroy took a swig of vodka before passing it over to Drake.

Staring up into the sky, the tall buildings illuminated by neon-colored signs and windows rose all around them. The small strip of sky above had no stars in it; nature's own light drowned out by the life-blood of the city. Digging a cigarette pack from her purse, Kilroy received a disgusted groan from Drake.

"We still have those?" the woman complained as Kilroy lit up. Offering the pack to Drake, the oriental woman shook her head in refusal. "I think I'm gonna puke if I have any more." Opening her purse, Drake pulled out a water bottle and took a long, refreshing swig, her dehydrated throat and body welcoming the liquid with glee.

Kilroy stared into the sky, lazily following the trail of smoke rising from her cigarette. Her head was pounding and her throat was dry, but she felt light and free. It was contentment found in a small moment amidst chaos; it was a moment worth living for. Taking another drag, she cherished the feeling of the smoke burning her lungs. The cigarettes had once again started to taste like ass a long time ago, but the hot smoke in her lungs made her feel alive; it assured her it was all worth it.

Drake laid her head against Kilroy's shoulder, closing her eyes. "I miss Foogs, 'Roy", she whispered, her mind hazy from the lack of sleep and alcohol. Kilroy stretched out an arm and pulled Drake closer, taking another drag from her smoke before responding.

"Yeah, every day. It's a shame she couldn't be out here with us. I bet she was an amazing dancer", the brunette responded solemnly, drawing a giggle out of Drake.

"She was amazing at everything. Woulda loved to see her shake dat ass!" she exclaimed cheerfully, the laugh turning into a whimper as she brought her hands up to her head. "Ow, goddamn! My hair hurts 'Roy, let's get back to the hotel", she complained, struggling back to a sitting position. Glancing around she noted no one was paying any attention to the two women lying on the hood of the car. That's Japan for you.

Staggering and swaying their way across the streets, the two women made their way over to the small hotel where they had booked a room for the night. It was a small one-room suite with a single bed, couch and a table. Without any ceremonies Drake crashed onto the couch while Kilroy took the bed, both of them passed out and asleep in no time at all.

* * *

Drake opened her eyes gingerly, the dull daylight from the window swarming her senses. Her arm was numb from sleeping on top of it, and her mouth was dry as the Sahara desert. Making the fatal mistake of rolling over, she groaned in pain as a thousand sectoids mindfrayed her at once, her brain pummeling at the insides of her skull.

"Killllrooooy!" she moaned in a pained tone, laying limply on the couch. The back rest of the sofa was towards the bed and she couldn't see her friend. Letting out another whining call, she heard Kilroy stir in the bed beyond. An incoherent mumble answered as Kilroy woke up from her slumber and into the shared reality of the worst hangover they'd had in a long time.

Drake called for her friend again, this time drawing an angry _"what?"_ from Kilroy. "Get me water Kilroy", Drake whined, bursting into a hysterical giggle as Kilroy cursed at her from out of sight. The giggle sent jolts of pain through her head but she couldn't stop: she was sleep deprived, gloriously hung over and probably still a little bit drunk. Struggling to a sitting position Drake glanced over at Kilroy and burst into painful yet oh-so satisfying laughter at the sight.

Kilroy was sitting on the edge of the bed, one leg hanging over the edge. Her denim jacket was halfway off her shoulders and her T-shirt was wrinkled and bunched up at the hem, revealing her belly button. Her eyes were miserable as the eyeliner had smeared itself all over her face and the woman's hair was a catastrophic sight: disheveled and pointing in every direction imaginable.

Kilroy stared daggers at Drake as the Indian woman laughed with tears in her eyes. Getting up with a grimace, Kilroy made her way over to the little kitchenette in the corner of the room. Drake was howling with laughter, letting out pained _ows_ in-between the bursts as the hangover hammered at her senses. Filling a glass with water Kilroy turned towards her friend, taking a long sip of the cold water without taking her eyes off Drake. Finished, she filled the glass again, rinse and repeat.

"Oh come on 'Roy! Don't be like that!" Drake complained, still laughing a little while reaching pitifully towards the brunette. Slumping back onto the couch, she gave up on the hopes of receiving a refreshing favor from her friend, too tired and lazy to get up herself.

Kilroy sat down behind the table between the couch and the kitchenette. Digging around in her purse that was lying on the table, she produced a pack of cigarettes. Drake vocalized her disgust and let out a low gag as Kilroy lit up the cigarette. "How can you do that? Oh god I'm never gonna smoke again. My mouth tastes like ass, Kilroy. Like ASS!" Drake complained, staring at her friend in horror.

Kilroy dug her aviator sunglasses from the purse and donned them on, letting out a puff of smoke towards Drake. The bizarre sight of her friend looking like a 70's glam rocker drew another laughing fit from Drake, the pain and fun of it all mingling together into the best time she'd had in a long time. Kilroy regarded the woman with a quiet stare before finally speaking up.

"You look like shit, Drake." The comment drew another massive howl of laughter from Drake and this time Kilroy joined her friend, sinking against the table as her body convulsed with the fits of laughter, fist hammering against the surface of the table. Exclamations of pain and laughter filled the hotel room as the two friends suffered through their collective hangover together, with only water and cigarettes to feed their starving, worn down and tired bodies.

* * *

Scubaman turned over in the bed, opening his eyes. The sleeping face of an attractive Japanese woman in her forties greeted the waking man, drawing a wide smile to his lips. Giving the woman's cheek a soft caress, Scubaman enjoyed the moment a while longer before getting up.

Rising to a sitting position, he pushed the blanket away from his body. The Argentinian was naked as the day he had been born to this world as he ran a hand over his short-cropped hair. Rolling his head and shoulders around, Scuba enjoyed the feeling of his body waking up. He was only slightly hung over: when _El Zorro_ was on the prowl, the ability to perform the act of love came first, the joys of drinking second.

Getting up from the bed, Scuba gave his backside a scratch as he eyed the room. Clothes were thrown all over the small bedroom and he looked for his boxers in the mess. Last night flashing into his mind, he grinned at the memory of the woman throwing his underwear out the door and over the edge of the balcony. Making his way over to his jeans, Scubaman pulled on the pants over his naked body. _We're going behind enemy lines, boys,_ he thought gleefully to himself and let out a low chuckle, careful not to wake up the woman sleeping in the bed.

Grabbing an opened can of beer sitting on a chair close by, the Latino headed towards the balcony door. Getting out into the open air, he regarded the cloudy Nagoya morning with serenity. Taking a sip of the lukewarm beer, he set the can down on the edge of the balcony and dug a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his jeans. Pulling out the last smoke, he lit up and leaned against the edge of the balcony, lazily following the life of the city as people made their way to work, school and various other places in their daily lives.

Finishing his smoke, Scuba dropped the stub into the beer can and turned away from the busy yet still peaceful streets. Getting back inside he closed the balcony door behind him, turning to look for the rest of his clothes. Finding his favorite T-shirt, he pulled the Hard Rock Café shirt over his head with a smile. It was the last item from Argentina he still possessed, and it reminded him of times long gone. Some of them good, some of them bad, but all of them special to him and worth treasuring.

Deciding to forgo the nowhere-to-be-seen socks, Scuba grabbed his blouse shirt and slung it over his shoulder. Rounding the bed, he leaned over and kissed the woman behind her ear. _"Sayonara, mi amor"_, he whispered into her ear, causing her to stir a little on the bed, pulling the blankets tighter around herself. With a smile, Scubaman got up and quietly exited the room.

Walking down the narrow hallway he reached the door and pulled on his sneakers. Looking up, he saw a little girl stare at him from behind the corner at the end of the corridor. Grinning friendly at the girl Scuba sent her a small flying kiss, causing her to disappear behind the corner. With a content smile on his lips, the man pushed out of the door and into the stairwell.

Making his way down in good spirits, he greeted an old man climbing up the stairs. Whistling away, Scubaman walked out into the temperate morning, taking a moment to get his bearings. Figuring out where he was, he headed off into the city. He still had some business to take care of before returning to base.

* * *

"You look ridiculous wearing those sunglasses in this weather", Drake commented as the two women made their way down the somewhat crowded streets. Kilroy dismissed her complaints with a wave of her hand, lowering the sunglasses and peeking at Drake over the rim.

"This better?" the woman asked, drawing a giggle out of Drake as she saw her devastated eyes. Pushing the glasses back up, Kilroy regarded the people around them. The two of them were tall for women, especially in Japanese terms, both standing at around 170 cm tall. But it wasn't the most of it. They were disheveled, clearly hung over and reeked of old booze and cigarettes and apparently quite the sight for the Japanese as people were staring at them in open curiosity.

"You reckon they think we're doing the walk of shame?" Drake asked with a smile on her lips, drawing a groan from Kilroy.

"I will let you know I have not done the walk of shame in forever, Drake! I will not have these people think otherwise of me! There was no sex involved, ergo there is no walk of shame. Make them understand, Drake! Speak to them!" Kilroy proclaimed wildly, drawing a laugh from Drake as she signaled for her to keep it down.

But Kilroy just gained steam, turning to the crowd around them and spreading her arms, "There was no sex, people of Nagoya! Rest assured, this is not the walk-u of the shame-u. _No sekkusu, arigato domo santos!" _The shameless display from Kilroy caused Drake to bury her face in her hands, wanting to disappear from the sights of the people around them. The Japanese were giving the brunette puzzled looks as she jabbered her nonsense out into the morning streets.

"Come on 'Roy, please. No more. Please stop", Drake pleaded, earning a throaty laugh from Kilroy. The woman was beyond giving a fuck in her hung over state but she complied nonetheless, instead digging the pack of cigarettes from her purse. With a moan she realized she was out, crumpling the pack and tossing it over her shoulder unceremoniously.

Glancing around the street, it was hard to believe the alien conflict was in fact real. Life went on like normal in most places, and the people would never know how close they all were to the brink of destruction, or who the people fighting for them were. Turning to her friend, Kilroy spoke up, "Aaaaaaaand… terror attack, go!" Pointing her finger towards the city, she waited for the bombing to start.

Drake regarded her with an unimpressed look, pushing her finger down. Gearing up for another one, Kilroy jabbed out her finger once again, "Aaaaaand…EXALT coming to get me, go!" This time responding with a small laugh, Drake shook her head and turned to regard the stores on the sides. They were positively starving and as Drake finally spied a promising candidate on the side, she yelled out in excitement.

"Look Kilroy! Teppanyaki!" Drake was pointing at a small doorway on the side of the street with flaps of cloth serving as the door. Kilroy gave her friend a puzzled look.

"Tep-a-what-now?" she asked, drawing an exasperated sigh from Drake who grabbed her by the wrist. Dragging Kilroy with her, Drake entered the small restaurant.

The room was simple with traditional Japanese tapestries on the walls. A long counter ran in the middle of the room and beyond it, the kitchen was in open sight. The iron griddle used to prepare the food was steaming hot as the middle-aged cook was working behind the counter. Only a couple of people were sitting on the counter and Drake dragged Kilroy with her, seating them in the middle.

Taking a look at the menu on the counter, Drake ran Kilroy through what teppanyaki was. The brunette's interest flared up as the delicious smells of grilled meat rose from beyond the counter and she focused her full attention on the choices as Drake explained to her what everything was. Settling on a dish of fried beef with vegetables and egg, Drake signaled to the cook they were ready to order.

The wrinkled man leaned over towards the disheveled women, smiling politely as Drake told him their order. The Indian woman didn't speak Japanese, but she knew some of the terms and was familiar with the cuisine in the far-east, managing to place their order effortlessly. Ordering a cola for herself Drake turned to Kilroy to inquire what she wanted to drink.

"Beer", Kilroy stated in a loud tone. Leaning towards the cook, she repeated the order as slowly as she could. "I want beer. Beer-u, _arigato_." The cook smiled politely and let out an understanding _aah_, turning away to fetch their drinks. Drake was staring at Kilroy in disbelief and the brunette shrugged dismissively. "I know my Japanese as well, thank you very much", she stated snobbishly, intentionally misinterpreting Drake's disbelief.

The man brought their drinks and served the other customers their dishes, getting started on Drake's and Kilroy's orders. The steam and odors rising from the cooker were intoxicating to the starving women and the wait seemed almost endless as they stared at the food as it was prepared under their very eyes. Leaning towards Kilroy Drake whispered, "I can't wait. Hold me back if I dive in over the counter right now."

But eventually their wait paid off, and the cook placed their dishes in front of them. Kilroy stared at the chopsticks for a moment before looking up at the cook. The assault made an over-the-top gesture of spooning something up and the cook let out another understanding sound and nodded, fetching the woman a fork. Drake giggled at the interaction, deftly eating her food with the chopsticks.

As Kilroy dug into her food, Drake let out another laugh. "You're gonna eat with those glasses on?" she asked disbelievingly as Kilroy seemed to disregard every courtesy rule in the book. Turning to her friend, Kilroy smacked loudly as she ground down the food in her mouth. Giving up, she spoke with her mouth full.

"I don't wanna scare him off with these", she gestured towards her concealed eyes and Drake let out another laugh, drawing a curious look from the cook. Shaking her head, she muttered _"never change"_ under her breath as they focused on the food.

Finishing up their meals, the women paid up and as Kilroy was about to leave a tip, Drake snagged the money from her. Lecturing the woman on traditional Japanese customs, she shoved the money in her own pocket to Kilroy's dismay. Getting out of the restaurant, the women shouted goodbye and once outside, Drake handed the stack of yens back to Kilroy.

Making their way down the street, well fed and hangover finally subsiding a little bit, the two women were content. The day had turned to noon and they would soon have to head back to the Council's base in order to reach XCOM HQ before midnight. But they still had some time left to roam the city.

Passing by a man shouting heatedly at a crowd gathering around him, the women regarded him curiously. "What do you think he's saying?" Drake asked her friend, drawing a shrug from Kilroy. A Japanese man next to them leaned over, speaking understandable English albeit with a heavy Japanese accent.

"He is praising the Visitor. To give yourself to the cause and ascend beyond the Sins of Mankind." Kilroy stared at him in disbelief before shifting her gaze back to the preacher. Gritting her teeth she clenched her hands into fists.

"Fuckin' EXALT assholes", she growled through her teeth and started towards the edge of the crowd. Drake's hand on her arm stopped her and Kilroy spun around to confront her friend.

The good spirits and merriment had disappeared from Drake's face. She was looking at Kilroy with serious eyes and pulled her friend away from the man who had spoken to them. Leaning close she whispered into Kilroy's ear, "What do you think you are doing? Even if he is one of their people, you really think beating him up in front of this crowd is a good idea? What the hell, Kilroy. And even then, chances are he's just a civilian. A nutjob, yes, but just a harmless civilian. Pull yourself together, tech sergeant."

Kilroy clenched her teeth together and glanced back at the man. Letting out a sharp breath she muttered her agreement and let Drake lead her away from the scene and down the street, away from the man preaching the End of the World.

* * *

Kilroy and Drake lounged on the hood of the convertible, stretching out their legs and enjoying the late afternoon sun peeking through the veil of clouds. It was almost time but Scuba was nowhere to be seen. Turning to complain to Drake once again, Kilroy saw a minivan turn into the military base from the driveway and as it came to a halt close to them, the familiar figure of Scubaman clambered out from the front passenger's seat. Throwing an arm up in greeting the man went to slide open the back door and pulled out something massive.

Kilroy and Drake let out a heartfelt laugh as the infantryman made his way over to them carrying a massive bouquet of flowers. This was no normal bouquet; they had custom-ordered it from one of the flower stores in Nagoya. Dozens after dozens of expensive and colorful flowers adorned the man-sized construction, with a huge card hanging from a blue strap in the front.

As the smiling Scubaman approached them, Drake jumped down from the hood of the car and walked over, turning the card and letting out a sigh as she laid eyes on it. The faces of Frag, Foogleman, Toothcake, Atlanton, Ballystix and Hawkeye adorned the card with the words _In memoriam_ on the top. Kilroy joined Drake and Scubaman and shook her head with a smile as the tears stung at her eyes.

"She'd be super mad we used the money for flowers", Kilroy said, drawing grins from Scuba and Drake. In the end, no one had managed to beat Foogleman in squash before she fell in battle. The operatives had decided the money would go into honoring the fallen; as it happened, the sum had been considerable and a simple bouquet of flowers hadn't quite seemed to cover it. However, Scubaman had made it work, spending every last penny.

Drake smiled a little and turned to Kilroy. "She's not the boss of me anymore. I can do what I want", she said in a small, wistful voice. Kilroy wrapped an arm around her sister as their company turned towards the helicopter, ready to head back to base, all rested and recuperated.


	35. Chapter 34: POW

Chapter 34: POW

Hypergeek climbed up the small ridge to the top of the hill. Sun was setting over the now-quiet marshland, painting the scenery in hues of crimson and orange. Giving the arc thrower hanging from his belt a small tap, the engineer smiled inside as he approached the small group of operatives on top of the hill.

"Damn, that is one ugly son of a bitch", Awo muttered to Van Doorn and Daishi as the soldiers stood around a pair of floaters. The aliens were still alive: a massive dose of high-voltage electricity from close range had short-circuited their mechanical systems and stunned their central nervous systems, leaving the aliens in a comatose state. The aliens should remain incapacitated until revived with special treatment back at HQ, but better safe than sorry. Hypergeek tossed the pair of custom-engineered restraints onto the ground and knelt next to the captives.

Leaning in close, the Belgian observed the face of one of the horrific creatures. Their eyes were covered by some sort of optical lens that usually glowed with yellow light. The glow had died from the spectacles on this one, and the glassed eyes below revealed tiny pupils retreated into the middle of the cornea, twitching unnervingly as if the creature was dreaming.

Looking up at the people around him, Hypergeek took leadership of the situation. Awo may have been the commanding officer on the field but the same way the outfit's medics had the highest authority in any medical emergencies, Hypergeek's authority overrode Awo's when it came to dealing with alien captives. "Van Doorn, you're with me. Awo and Daishi, you take the other one. If you have any questions about the restraints, follow my lead first and ask questions afterwards if it's still unclear. _Comprendre?_"

Receiving nods from the operatives, Hypergeek reached for one of the restraints. It was specifically created for floaters and was probably the weirdest of their restraint designs, seeing as this species of alien lacked feet. The restraints were made of a mixture of alien alloys and steel and they locked the mechanical arms of the creature behind its back. A set of curving bars closed over the creature's shoulders on both sides, blocking off the jets on its back from above and below. A final fastening system ran across the front, shackling the bars on both sides together.

Hypergeek glanced up from the restrained creature and gave Awo a querying look. The lieutenant responded with a small acknowledging grunt and picked up the second set of restraints with a somewhat doubtful look in his eyes. Hypergeek left him to deal with the second prisoner and turned to Van Doorn. Jerking at the back of the restraints he pulled free a pair of handles that stretched outwards on both sides of the creature. Signaling for Van Doorn to grab onto the other end, they carried the creature down the hillside, the alien suspended between them on the stretcher-like construct.

"That was some pretty damn impressive work, stunning two of these ugly bastards. How'd it feel, getting up close there?" Van Doorn inquired from behind him. Hypergeek was carrying at the front, with his back to the alien and the old gunner.

Hypergeek leaned his head backwards, looking up into the crimson sky. Without turning his head, he spoke up into the sunset, "It was… _très satisfaisant._ Very good. It felt very good." A small smile rose to his lips as he basked in the invigorating feeling of success.

Some people think pride is a sin and modesty a virtue. Hypergeek wasn't one of them. If you are the best at something, you should take pride in your work. Before joining XCOM he had been the top dog in explosive ordnance disposal in the French elite counter-terrorism unit GIGN. Many people had perceived his attitude as snobbishness and arrogance and who knows, maybe they were right. But it had never bothered Hypergeek.

Reaching the Skyranger landing zone, Hypergeek laid eyes on the rest of their squad. Wolfer was off to the side chatting up JBowles, the frat boy of XCOM. Kungtotte was standing guard next to the aircraft, laser sniper rifle at the ready, occasionally scanning for activity in the distance through his scope. Reaching their destination, Hypergeek led Van Doorn up the ramp and into the aircraft.

Walking straight to the back of the Skyranger he laid down the alien. A set of rails was embedded into the wall of the aircraft and the engineer pulled one of the plates on the railing down to floor level. Pushing the handles back into the restraints he lifted the floater with the help of Van Doorn, shackling the creature into the wall of the aircraft. The locking mechanisms clicked as the restraints fit into the plate. Getting up and stepping backwards, he surveyed the sight critically. It was the first time the system was being used and it seemed to be doing an alright job although Hypergeek was already seeing some changes that could be made to improve it.

Looking up from the captive the engineer noticed Van Doorn staring at him. The gunner grinned and spoke up, "You take your work seriously, huh? I can respect that in a soldier."

Hypergeek turned back to eye the alien captive and muttered his agreement in French. Turning back to the American he figured he might as well try to make friendly with the man. "Would you like to join me and Medve for whiskey and cigars afterwards? Scubaman brought me a vintage from Nagoya that is _tout magnifique_."

Van Doorn lifted his eyebrows, vocalizing his approval. "Whiskey and cigars? This is like OCS all over again. Sign me up!"

Hypergeek smiled a small, polite smile at the energetic corporal. Realizing Awo and Daishi hadn't arrived yet, the engineer walked out of the Skyranger. Peering out towards the hill he saw the two of them still crouched around the alien captive. Cursing under his breath in French, the man took off in a brisk pace, ready to share a few choice words with the lieutenant.

* * *

Renzol walked down one of the corridors at XCOM HQ. She was headed towards the TV room; a rare occurrence indeed. She had been so absorbed in her training, both physical and mental, over the past month and a half that most people had come to accept she never showed up at the social gatherings anymore. However, she sometimes still got tired of doing the same exercises over and over again, and tonight was one of those nights. Rounding the final corner she reached the door leading into the TV room. Cracking the heavy metal door slightly she slipped into the room.

A crowd of people was gathered at the front of the room. They had pulled a few chairs around the two sofas and were watching a loud action flick on the big screen. Renzol noticed Wolfer, Awo and JBowles in the midst of the rowdy crowd, commenting loudly and obnoxiously on the action. Turning to survey the rest of the room, Renzol noticed Hunterhr in the back.

The man was sitting behind a desk with his back against the wall. The room was dark but for the back row where the lights shone down on the solitary medic. He was reading a book, his serious face betraying no emotions. Renzol started towards the back and seated herself next to the man.

As the small rocketeer pulled up a chair, Hunterhr looked up from his book. The dark-skinned man smiled gently at Renzol. "Hello there, Renzol. I haven't seen you around here for some time."

Renzol leaned against the table, looking towards the big screen with uninterested eyes. The movie seemed to be quite a ways in and it appeared impossible to get into it now. "You know, training and…things. I haven't really had the time", taking her eyes off the screen, Renzol turned to look at Hunterhr.

The man smiled his gentle smile at her before turning his attention back to his book. Renzol tried to follow the movie, but the confusing mish-mash of over-the-top action scenes and melodramatic dialogue between characters she didn't know made her regret coming over. _Might as well have borrowed another novel from Vherid,_ she thought to herself, her mood slipping down a notch.

Turning back to regard Hunterhr, Renzol observed the book in his hands. The covers were old, worn leather with no title or cover image of any kind. Examining the tome with interest, Renzol glanced up to notice Hunterhr was looking back at her. Feeling a little bit embarrassed to have been caught staring she sucked up her pride and asked, "What are you reading?"

Hunterhr closed the book with his finger in-between the pages. The man smiled quietly at Renzol before answering, "War and Peace."

Letting out a small surprised sound, Renzol shook her head a bit as she slumped against the table. "Isn't that a little heavy reading?" she asked, staring at the surface of the table.

A deep, gentle laugh emanated from Hunterhr's throat. The man placed the old book on the table and slid it over. "Try it", came his response, causing Renzol to glance up at him and then back at the book.

"No, no, no. You were reading it. It's fine", she tried to refuse politely, not wanting to inconvenience the man. Something in the medic's eyes made her feel nervous and she had an uneasy feeling about taking the book from him.

"I have read it already, a long time ago. And seems like you could use something to do besides…" Hunterhr finished the sentence by nodding towards the TV and as if on cue, a helicopter went up in flames and the crowd in front of the screen burst into laughter and exclamations of ridicule and disbelief. Giving up, Renzol smiled at the man and reached over, grabbing the large and old book and muttering a thank you.

She turned the book around in her hands. It was massive and ancient and as she turned over the cover, she noticed writing on the inside. _To my son Hunterhr on the day he answered the Call of Duty: always remember who you are and where you came from._ Tracing a finger along the old ink, Renzol looked up at the medic. Polite as ever, he had left Renzol to explore the book on her own, staring at the table in front of him, lost in thought.

Closing the book, Renzol set it in front of her on the table. There was an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, and she wasn't quite sure why. "Thank you. I'll make sure to read it. It must be an important book to you." She wasn't exactly sure why she had thanked him again. Maybe the inadequate muttered thank you hadn't been worthy of such a grand gift, or maybe she was just trying to make the uneasiness go away.

Hunterhr looked back at the small woman, smiling his ever-gentle smile. He was a big man, but not in a huge way like Wolfer, Medve or the others. His face was round and even though he was clearly strong, he wasn't pure muscle. He reminded Renzol a little bit of a big, gentle, black teddy bear. _What are you thinking, girl?_ Shaking the thought off her mind, Renzol turned back to the book.

"Renzol?" Hunterhr's voice interrupted her as she was about to open the book. Looking back at the medic, she waited for him to continue. "Did you see the captives they brought in today?" the man continued, looking at the rocketeer with serious eyes, the smile gone from his face.

She had indeed seen the captives. The two aliens had been stunned and shackled tight as the research team had hurried them over to the newly built alien containment facilities. Coming back from her thoughts, she looked back at Hunterhr. "I did. Why so?"

There was a mysterious look in the medic's eyes as he asked her yet another question, "What do you think we are going to do with them? Do you think they will get treatment worthy of a prisoner of war?" Renzol stared at the man, completely aghast. Prisoner of war? These creatures were invading their planet, slaughtering their comrades and abducting their civilians.

Struggling to find the words, Renzol stuttered at the man. Finally finding the words, she spoke in agitation, "POW? What the hell Hunterhr, I saw these creatures kill Hawkeye. You think they deserve mercy?" The man seemed stoic in front of her flabbergasted reaction.

Hunterhr looked away from her and towards the big screen. With a quiet tone, he answered, "Why do you think they are doing this, Renzol? Have you stopped to think about why our enemy is doing what they are doing?" Turning back to the woman, a puzzled look on Renzol's face greeted him.

"Sectoids, floaters, thin men, outsiders, chryssalids, mutons, robotic seekers and drones… what do they have in common, Renzol? Why are they doing this?" The stare he was giving the small woman was intent, and Renzol felt like a confused little girl, lacking the answers to all of his questions. The uneasiness inside her had transformed into an ever-rising anxiety. She opened her mouth, but didn't manage to find the words to answer him.

Hunterhr leaned in closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. Looking her solemnly in the eye, he voiced his concerns, "Are we fighting invading soldiers, Renzol? Or are we fighting disposable slaves, thrown at us wave after wave?"

Renzol answered his stare, the anxiety inside of her growing unbearable. Getting up from the table she muttered a hasty apology. Excusing herself, she strode across the room with shaky legs, slipping back out into the corridor. Her heart was beating frantically and a mixture of emotions raged inside of her.

_I need to calm down. I need the Box._ Her walk turned into a jog and her jog turned into a sprint as she made her way towards the sports section of the base. One of the courts was bound to be empty and she needed time alone.


	36. Chapter 35: Tears

Chapter 35: Tears

Sun was setting down over the Brazilian train yard. The huge leaves of palm trees swung lazily in the wind, oblivious to the plasma bomb charging up below them. The fierce sounds of battle filled the air as Earth's finest struggled to defuse the device in the middle of the populous city of Fortaleza.

Drake let out a sharp curse as the scatter laser kicked against her shoulder, sending the barrage of high-energy bursting past the seeker. Her right shoulder was smoldering under the Kevlar bomb-vest she was wearing, courtesy of the now-deceased thin man. Pumping her weapon, Drake watched the seeker loosen its grip on Zim as the combined lasers from Stoli and Morgan sizzled at its carapace, leaving deep burn marks on the creature.

Taking off into the sky, the seeker didn't make it far. Zim collapsed on her back, an incoherent gurgle of a curse leaving her mouth as she hosed a spray of lasers into the sky. With the seeker's inner systems deep fried, the mechanical alien spun off and away from the squad, like a kid's remote controlled helicopter losing control.

With a grimace, Drake turned back into the fight. Several more slender figures dashed between the railcars up ahead and Instinct was alone in the vanguard, supported only by Vherid. A hand on her arm stopped her. "You can't fight like that. Let me help."

Turning around, Drake saw Hunterhr behind the cargo boxes next to her, first aid kit on hand. Nodding her approval, Drake pushed up against the crates and turned her right shoulder to the medic. Grinning in pain as the man examined the burn on her shoulder, Drake turned her head to look back into the fight.

Stoli dashed up along the train tracks, headed for one of the large alien pods scattered around the train yard. The thin men pushed up into cover in one of the railcars right in front of the squad, ready to strike. With a loud cheer, Stoli sent the high explosive grenade spinning through the air. The explosion caught the aliens off guard, the walls of their precious railcar going up in a storm of splinters and fire.

As Hunterhr sprayed anti-burn foam into her wound, Drake watched on with a satisfied grin as her squad converted the advantage. Lasers fired down on the exposed enemy, shredding the bodies of the three thin men into fine acidic mist in the darkening air. Even one seeker had been caught in the explosion, its sneaky cloaking device not so useful against the raw explosive power of Stoli's grenade.

"NO!" the shout left Drake's lips as she realized the squad's right flank was compromised. A solitary thin man took aim on Stoli, and Drake was away. She pushed her thighs as hard as she could, her boots sending up gravel and dust from the train yard's ground. The thin man fired his plasma carbine and a scream of horror from Stoli echoed across the battlefield. _At least she shouted. She's not dead._

Seeing the alien pull back behind the tanker railcar it was using for cover, Drake closed the last few meters to the target. Sliding past the corner, she fired her scatter laser at the alien. From point-blank range, the rays of energy tore the thin man's body apart, spewing acid everywhere. As the cloud engulfed her, Drake coughed wildly as the substance got into her throat. Through stinging eyes, she saw more enemies behind the next railcars.

Instinct rushed past her as she stepped back behind the tanker, the man taking cover behind some crates next to a railcar across from her. The Nigerian assault yelled a warning as a seeker he fired at pushed right through the scattering rays of laser and towards Drake. Dreading the backlash of the acid, Drake brought her scatter laser up on target, all too late.

The muzzle of the flier flashed green and a barrage of plasma struck her in the stomach. The jolt of the impact through her bomb vest shook her body, the acid burrowing deep into her nerves. With darkening eyes, Drake let out a whimper as she fell to her knees, shaking her head in denial.

A barrage of lasers blasted past her head, laying the seeker down. Through slanted eyes, Drake saw Instinct rush towards the remaining thin man and sectoid, headed for a bomb node further ahead. Putting out an arm, Drake steadied herself against the tanker car next to her. A sizzling pain shot up her arm and into her brain as a stream of plasma ploughed its way along her outstretched limb. With a whimper, Drake fell backwards and onto the train tracks below her.

Staring up into the sky, she saw the palm trees sway gently in the crimson light. The acid burned in her wounds as she helplessly waited for her squad to save her. _Is this how Foogle felt? There was no one to save her._

The face of Hunterhr appeared in her vision, replacing the palm trees. The medic was calm as ever with a serious look in his eyes. Spreading his first aid kit next to her on the ground, the man got to work. The anti-acid foam from his sprayer neutralized the acid in her wounds and the man lifted her head up, pouring cleansing liquid down her throat. Drake gagged as she swallowed the horrific liquid down with a grimace. Taking up her arm the man furrowed his brow before spraying anti-burn foam into the long gash.

Drake gasped for air as the pain from the wound rushed her senses. Hunterhr muttered soothingly as he worked, grabbing a syringe of powerful anesthetic and injecting the substance into her arm. It was designed to remove the pain while leaving a soldier's extremities still functional. Taking in a trembling breath, Drake whispered, "How bad is it?"

Hunterhr tossed the empty syringe away, grabbing onto the assault's outstretched healthy right arm. Pulling her up, the man spoke encouragingly, "It'll be fine, Drake. Don't worry about it."

Drake forced the ominous feeling away from her mind, swallowing the lump that was starting to form at the back of her throat. Pushing towards the plasma bomb, she ordered her people into position around the explosive device. The area wasn't secure yet. The disturbing screams of thin men echoed around the train yard as more enemies closed in on them.

The plasma bomb was standing next to an open railcar at the edge of the train yard. The design of the bomb was the same they had faced before in London, and every soldier in the outfit was trained to defuse them. Powering the alien device down, Drake could hear the shrill screams get louder.

A shadowy figure dashed past the open railcar and Drake wheeled around, bringing her scatter laser up. The thin man let out its last screech as a laser from behind Drake burned a gaping hole into the alien's neat suit. "Here they come, get ready!" Drake hollered, pulling her laser pistol as she saw movement from the corner of her eye.

From the end of their line of railcars, a thin man came running out into the open. Morgan nailed the creature with her laser rifle, and the loud _oooohhh yyyeeaaaahhh_ from Stoli signaled a grenade on its way. Through incredible agility or sheer luck, the thin man bent and wiggled its way past the explosion of fragments, unscathed. Taking aim, Drake pulled the trigger and the thin man's head melted away in a gush of acid.

The sounds of firing lasers from the railcar lines towards the middle of the yard spoke of a battle between Morgan, Zim and the enemy. A yell from Instinct alerted Drake to enemies approaching from where the XCOM squad had assaulted the bomb from. Both assaults grabbing their flashbangs, they tossed the grenades over the railcars as Instinct dashed towards the enemy.

A disoriented thin man poked its head over the open railcar and Drake cursed as she struggled to bring her scatter laser back up. The alien fired across the yard, drawing a cry of dismay from Hunterhr as his flank was left wide open, the barrage barely missing his head. Before Drake got to pull the trigger, a sizzling laser beam from Vherid's strike rifle put an end to the creature's flanking shenanigans.

A yell from Instinct down the line and the quieting of laser fire from Zim's and Morgan's position signaled the end of the short yet brutal battle. Drake brought a hand to her earpiece and reported to her headset before slumping against the railcar, the receding adrenaline rush leaving her body aching numbly all over.

* * *

Kilroy arrived at the medbay, coming to a halt from her run. Her brow was furrowed in concern and the sight inside made her draw a sharp breath. A medicinal cart was lying across the floor of the medbay, its contents spilled all over the floor. A drip's rack was propped up against the back wall and the drip itself and its tube were tossed into the corridor, the medicinal fluids from inside spilling all over. A shocked Squint was looking at her from her bed and Kamikaze was pacing around the medbay restlessly. A nurse was crouched on the floor, collecting the various medicine bottles and medical implements with a dark frown on her face.

"Where did she go? I came as fast as I could", the assault asked from the people in the room, earning a helpless shrug from Squint and a poisonous stare from the nurse. The woman returned to her work, not bothering to answer Kilroy.

From the other side of the room, Burncycle spoke up from his bed. "I saw her turn right", the Japanese scout instructed, pointing the way. Kilroy muttered a thank you and took off in a jog, hoping to find her friend before the base security would. _Goddamn it Drake. What the hell are you doing?_

She looked for any signs in the corridor as to where her friend could have gone. Coming to an intersection, she pondered for a moment. Trusting her instincts, she started down the path leading to the sports section of the base. As she approached the various courts, sure enough, she spotted a drop of blood on the side of the pathway. Now positive she knew where Drake had gone, Kilroy headed straight for the squash court. As she drew closer to her destination, she noted with some worry that the drops of blood were appearing more frequently now. Arriving at the court Kilroy took a deep breath, pushing the door open gently and slipping inside, closing the door behind her.

The room was completely dark. Reaching for the light switch on the side of the door, Kilroy stopped her hand. "Drake?" she spoke gently into the dark room. No answer. Turning the lights on to the entrance of the court, the fluorescent lights blinded her for a moment. Glancing towards the rest of the room, she saw a figure hunched against the wall at the very back of the room. The lights barely reached there, and the figure was draped in deep shadows.

Making her way over, Kilroy noticed the trail of blood leading across the squash court. It wasn't the heavy bleeding of an artery, but it still made Kilroy feel uneasy. Drawing closer to her friend, Kilroy's heart lurched at the sight.

Drake was sitting against the wall with her knees up to her chest. The woman was resting her forehead on her knees and she had her arms around her legs. The whole length of her left arm was bandaged, but the gauze was coming loose and the bandages were stained red. The right side of her gown was red with blood, the bandaging on her shoulder only halfway done.

Kilroy sat down next to her friend. She didn't say anything, and the two women just sat in silence for a few minutes. Finally Drake stirred, and with a quiet sniffle, she turned her head to peek at Kilroy. Her eyes were red and her dark hair was hanging messily over her face, hiding most of her features. Kilroy looked at her with sorrowful eyes as she felt something choke at her throat. She hadn't planned for anything, but seeing her friend like this was too much. Tears flooded her eyes as a low whimper left her throat.

Leaning over to the injured assault, Kilroy draped her arms around her sister. Letting out a pitiful sob, she buried her face in Drake's hair. "Drake…I'm so sorry…" she managed to whisper with a shaky voice, choking on the words. Drake trembled in her arms, quietly at first. But as the floodgates of pain and frustration finally opened up, the trembling turned into shaking and the shaking into convulsions.

With a heartbreaking wail, Drake buried her face in Kilroy's chest, finally letting go. Holding onto her tightly, Kilroy couldn't make her own tears stop. And so the two assaults wept together, the squash court filled with their sobs and the inconsolable whimpers of Drake.

Eventually the tears died down, and Kilroy consoled her sister with warm and gentle caresses. There was no need for words. Kilroy had spent enough time in the medbay and with Drake to understand. Giving her hair a soft kiss, Kilroy muttered softly, "Are you ready to go back?"

Drake looked up at her, caramel face streaked with tears, eyes red and sorrowful. Snot ran down from her nose and over her lips. Kilroy reached over and wiped away the blobs, earning a small giggle from Drake. Pulling the sleeve of her gown over her face, Drake wiped away the rest of the tears. Laying her head down against Kilroy's shoulder, she whispered, "Just a little longer."

And so they sat in embrace for a few more minutes, in silence. When it was finally time to go back, Kilroy pushed aside the base security and medical staff who demanded answers, making them back down with sharp stares and threats of violence. She led Drake all the way to her bed and fetched screens around her, getting a single nurse to tend to her wounds. Holding her little sister's hand, Kilroy watched her finally drift off to a peaceful slumber.

Standing ever vigilant, she didn't leave Drake's side for the remainder of the night.


	37. Chapter 36: Eyes on Me

Chapter 36: Eyes on Me

Renzol lied down in her bunk, her head propped up against her hands. Her eyes were scanning the words on the ancient book as she immersed herself in the stories of Anna, Pierre and the rest of the huge cast of _War and Peace_. She was a dozen pages in and it was indeed heavy reading as she had expected; but that's not to say it was a bad thing.

Reaching the end of the chapter, she fiddled with the corner of the old covers absentmindedly. Hunterhr had paid her a visit the following morning after their encounter in the TV room. The medic had had the old tome under his arm and an apologetic smile on his face.

"_I'm sorry for upsetting you. I did not realize you would react like that. These must be stressing times for you." _The medic had walked over to her bunk and offered her the tome. Renzol had accepted it with a smile and a muttered apology of her own.

"_Don't worry about it. I was just on edge. The stress just gets to you sometimes, you know?" _A moment of silence had passed between them, Renzol sitting on the edge of her bed and turning the book around in her hands.

Hunterhr had been the one to break the silence. _"Those are just the types of things I like to think about. I want you to know it doesn't affect my actions on the field. I know as well as anyone what the stakes are here. Just think of them as the musings of a man who takes this world too seriously sometimes." _A small smile of self-irony had risen to the medic's lips, and Renzol had conveyed her understanding with a smile and a nod. They had chatted for a while longer before the man had excused himself, leaving her to dive into the book.

It had taken Renzol quite a while to calm down that night after the TV room. She had banished the thoughts of ethics and morality into the Box, but it hadn't been enough to calm her down. The rapid beating of her heart and the heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach had taken a lot longer to dissipate. She was certain it wasn't all because of the ethical concerns Hunterhr had brought up. But if not that, then what?

Shaking herself back from the memories, Renzol glanced around the room. Vherid and Hypergeek were still gathered around the table in the back of the room. The sniper had taken it upon himself to teach the people in the room how to play a weird card game called Magic: The Gathering. The Belgian engineer had his brow in a deep furrow as he struggled to understand the rules.

Renzol smiled slightly at the sight. Vherid was really quite the personality. His interests in sci-fi and fantasy reminded Renzol of her little brother. But unlike her little brother who had seemed almost ashamed of the things he enjoyed, Vherid didn't seem to care at all what other people thought of him. Renzol giggled quietly as Hypergeek shook his head in confusion, drawing another lecture from Vherid. Who knows, maybe he would actually manage to find somebody to play with.

Grabbing her caterpillar bookmark, Renzol let out a small giggle as she laid it in-between the pages of the ancient book. The cute bookworm wearing glasses seemed so out of place on the yellow pages of the hundred-years-old book. Closing the tome, she got up to a sitting position and stretched her neck and shoulders. She had been part of the squad deployed against an alien terror attack in Melbourne yesterday, and she had the day off. But she wasn't about to rest on her laurels the whole day.

Getting up, Renzol walked up to her closet and started gathering her training gear. The book wasn't going anywhere, and the encounter in the TV room had made her wary of the apparent lapse in discipline. It was time to buckle down and make sure she wouldn't lose control of her emotions like that again.

* * *

Squint was standing next to her medbay bed in a somewhat melancholic mood. She was wearing the standard issue clothing of the XCOM operatives and the small items she'd had with her during her recovery were packed into a small bag. The time had come for her and Kamikaze's discharge.

She felt a familiar tingle in the back of her neck and a small smile rose to her lips. Kamikaze must have been looking at her. She had known since day one that the man had spent more of his time looking at her rather than at the TV, yet she had acted oblivious about it. He must have noticed she knew, but neither of them had brought it up. How WOULD you even bring something like that up? So hey, I know you've been watching me and I just wanna tell you I'm okay with it? Squint's shoulders heaved slightly as she suppressed the giggle with her hand.

She had known he had been watching, and she had enjoyed it. Kamikaze was a good-hearted man: he was gentle yet strong, serious yet he still possessed a healthy sense of humor. Feeling his eyes on her had made Squint feel safe and protected. That night when he had consoled her after the paramedics had brought in the injured Prowler was a glowing, warm memory in her mind. The man had gently closed her wounds with his touch and his presence, and a slight flush rose to Squint's cheeks at the memory.

And that brought her back to the moment, and the feelings of melancholy. They would be leaving the medbay, and thus their time together would come to an end. She felt her heart beat faster as the thought of starting that conversation with Kamikaze rose to mind. What if he didn't take the initiative? She wouldn't give up so easily, so if she had to be the one to do it, she would. A determined look appeared on her face as she took in a deep breath.

But where? How? The base was full of curious personnel and they lived in separate rooms. The barracks was definitely off-limits, there was no way she would let other people listen in on them. The empty rooms had been locked up after Zim's sleeping episode, so that was out of the question too. The sports courts? What if she took him there and somebody was out practicing? Would she have to bring her gear with her so she could pretend she had actually only wanted to train in the first place? Just take him to some random corridor like they were characters in some dumb high school anime? What if base security patrolled past them? Squint's head spun around with wild thoughts as she felt her throat choke up at how impossible it all seemed. _I hope he makes the first move,_ she thought weakly to herself, letting out a deep sigh.

A hand on her shoulder made her jump up, a small scream escaping her throat. She turned to find a very puzzled Kamikaze staring at her, his hand withdrawn and a doubtful look on his face. Pretending she was coughing, Squint quickly brought a hand up to her chest and doubled over, squeezing her eyes shut in embarrassment. _This is the worst. Get yourself together, girl!_

Straightening her back, she smiled an embarrassed smile at the man. "Wow! Something caught like, right in the tubes there. Haha, you know how it is!" Turning away, she kicked herself for the feeble excuse and stumbled words.

The nurse arriving in the main room relieved her from the horrifically awkward moment. The woman walked up to them with a smile on her face. Speaking their names, she announced they were discharged from the medbay. Squint strode over to the woman with a brisk pace, giving her a quick hug before signing her name on the papers. _You sure seem terribly eager to get out of here. What if he takes it the wrong way?_ The thought made her insides freeze with irrational fear. _No! You're just nervous, you stupid, silly little girl! Pull yourself the fuck together RIGHT NOW!_ Squint felt like screaming. She wanted to grab onto her hair and pull as hard as she could. She wanted to turn around, dash up to Kamikaze and just kiss him right now. She wanted to do a million different things and it was driving her insane.

Stepping out into the corridor, she turned to look back as Kamikaze signed his name. The man followed after her, a ponderous look on his face. "Finally recovered, huh?" Squint muttered, trying to lighten the mood. Kamikaze responded with a smiling nod as they started down the corridor and towards the barracks. The air hung heavy between them as neither had the courage to speak up amidst the awkwardness. Squeezing her eyes shut once again, Squint shook in her boots. _Do it! Just do it right now before we reach the barracks!_

From down the corridor, two heads popped into view from behind the corner. Scubaman was smiling his best _Zorro_-smile and Kilroy was grinning from ear to ear. Glancing at each other, the pair let out small titters before jumping out into the corridor.

The sudden blare of a party horn caused Squint's heart to jump up into her throat as she was about to blurt out her feelings. Opening her eyes she screamed as Scubaman and Kilroy yelled their congratulations in front of them. "Happy Recovery Day! This way my dear, this way!" Kilroy was shouting, grabbing Squint by her arm as Scubaman stepped behind Kamikaze, pushing the man down the corridor. The Latino was blowing small fanfares on his cheap party horn, drawing puzzled looks from Kamikaze.

Squint didn't have time to react as she was pulled down the corridor by Kilroy. The woman led her down to the wing of the barracks where most of the empty rooms were located at. Reaching the end of the corridor, Kilroy pushed open the door to the last room and tossed Squint inside. Scubaman followed, slapping Kamikaze on the back as the man stumbled into the room.

The two seniors grinned at them from the doorway. "Enjoy your Recovery Day dinner!" came the cheer from them as they started to close the door. Squint tried to protest weakly but she was cut off by the door slamming shut in front of her. She was brought back into the reality of the situation as Kamikaze let out a low laugh next to her. Wheeling around, Squint laid eyes on the room properly for the first time.

The lights were out but for a single candle. The table from the back of the room had been pulled into the middle and the long dinner candle laid a halo of light around the simple wooden table. A white bedsheet had been folded and spread out over the table. A bottle of wine and two glasses sat next to the candle, alongside a box of crackers and some processed cheese.

Squint walked over to the table, agape. A small, folded piece of paper sat on the edge next to an iPad. Turning over the paper, she read the words out loud, "Recovery Day dinner for two. Enjoy your special occasion while it lasts! For music, choose playlist _Amor Argentina._" The message was signed off with a slashed "Z". Laughing at the absurdity of the notion, she turned around to find Kamikaze walking up to the table.

The man glanced at the note in her hands, smiling at her. Walking up to one of the chairs, the man pulled it out from under the table, looking at her expectantly. "Shall we?" Kamikaze queried, and Squint giggled at his solemn display. Seating herself over-elegantly, she thanked the man in her noblest of tones.

As Kamikaze rounded the table to sit down, Squint reached over for the crackers. Examining the box, she noted it was the same kind that was served in the cafeteria. "That's some fine eating" she muttered sarcastically, earning a smile from Kamikaze.

The man took the wine bottle in his hands and rolled the cap open. Pouring them both a glass of red wine, the man lifted his own. "For recovery", he proposed a toast with a glimmer in his eye.

Squint tittered at the man, clinking her glass against his and joining the toast, "For Recovery DAY."

Taking a sip of the wine, Squint noted it wasn't half bad. Reaching for a cracker, she scooped plenty of processed cheese on top. Laughing at Kamikaze who was staring at her intently, she plopped the treat into her mouth. Munching loudly, she veered her head left-to-right judgingly. An approving look appeared on her face as she swallowed the food. "Not bad! A meal worthy of Recovery Day!" she exclaimed, both of them letting out a heartfelt laugh as Kamikaze reached for one himself.

They continued to sip wine and eat crackers as they joked about the whole situation. The tension from before had disappeared with the good spirits, and the wine was quickly loosening her up even more. _You wanna be careful, girl. Don't wanna let this go TOO quickly._ The silly thought caused Squint to bring a hand up to her mouth as she tried to suppress the giggle, Kamikaze giving her a puzzled and amused glance. She shook her head at the man to indicate it was nothing, the slightest of flushing rising to her cheeks.

"Okay, let's see what this is all about", Kamikaze declared as he reached for the iPod connected to a small speaker. Turning the mp3 player on, he chose the playlist labeled _Amor Argentina_. Soft tunes of Latin American guitar filled the air and Kamikaze laid the player back on the table.

Lifting her glass in another toast, Squint smiled seductively at the man in front of him. "For _Amor Argentina_", she proposed in a husky voice filled with passion. Kamikaze joined her, but instead of laughing her exaggerated toast off, the man responded with mannerisms matching her own. Squint felt her heart jump a little as their glasses clinked, and she felt his eyes on her as they drank the wine, her neck tingling with the sensation. _I must be dreaming_, she thought to herself, prolonging the sip as she savored the moment.

The gentle tunes of the music turned the conversation from joking and light-hearted to serious and adult. Squint did most of the talking, but Kamikaze wasn't left idle either as the man commented and responded on her topics. They spoke of their hopes and dreams and of family back home. Of the future, still so uncertain yet anticipated, looming right over the horizon. The talk of the alien war was notable in its absence as the two of them enjoyed their evening together. The bottle of wine was drained at a leisurely pace and the crackers and processed cheese had been pushed aside quite some time ago.

As a slow song with soft tunes of guitar and piano came on, Kamikaze quieted for a while. Looking Squint in the eye, the man spoke his question, the talking done for now. "Will you dance with me?"

The nervousness had disappeared from her ages ago, and Squint responded with a heartfelt _yes_ and a solemn nod. The man got up from his side of the table, offering her a hand. Squint took up the offer, rising from her chair. She slipped her arms under his, placing them on his back. As she felt the touch on her waist, a quiet sigh of satisfaction left her lips. Closing her eyes, Squint rested her head against Kamikaze's strong chest.

They swayed ever-so-slightly to the soft tunes of piano and guitar. Squint felt an aching in her heart. She felt like it would burst in her chest; she felt so impossibly lonely and happy at the same time. Drawing in a shaky breath, she opened her mouth into a quiet whisper.

"I knew since day one. Your gentle eyes on me. Knowing you watched over me made me feel safe. Knowing you watched ME. It made me feel beautiful. It made me happy." Her eyes were closed and she could feel the tears bubbling below the surface. A gentle hand on her chin lifted her upwards, and she opened her eyes to find him looking at her.

Kamikaze was smiling a gentle smile. His eyes were deep wells of hazelnut, full of emotion. The hand below her chin moved, pushing a lock of hair gently from her face. "Squint", the man spoke in a husky tone. "I care for you. You are so, so precious to me."

She closed her eyes and the tears rolled down her cheeks. Parting her lips ever-so-slightly, she invited him in. His lips pressed against hers, and Squint lost herself in the moment. It was sweet, intoxicating, choking, with the slightest hint of processed cheese and red wine. It was everything in the world at the same time. It completed her and tore her apart. She felt herself go limp in his arms, surrendering into his strong and reliable embrace.

All too soon, it was over. Kamikaze's lips departed from hers, and Squint opened her eyes. She was weeping openly, and the man smiled at her. He looked happy, happier than any man has ever been. _He damn well better be_, a whimsical thought crossed her mind. Not satisfied, Squint reached a hand behind his head. Grabbing Kamikaze's hair, she pulled him back down, this time into an adult's kiss.

She parted her lips as their tongues met, tentative at first. But the kiss soon turned into a dance of its own as they explored each other to the passionate and soft tunes of _Amor Argentina_. The night was still young, and they were desperately thirsty for each other. After all, they had travelled through a desert together, and it was finally time to quench that thirst.


	38. Chapter 37: Ride of the Valkyries

Chapter 37: Ride of the Valkyries

Cell held onto the safety frame of her seat as the Skyranger flew in low over the forest and towards the UFO landing site. The operatives around the sergeant were fresh-faced with a few couple-days veterans. Volatile was finally ready for action after spending two consecutive months in the medbay. _Almost as bad as Drake. Almost,_ Cell thought to herself as she surveyed her second-in-command. Volatile's short-cropped hair under her beret combined with her homely, masculine features almost made it seem like it wasn't an all-female squad after all. She was staring intently at the sunglasses in her hand, remnants from Frag's last operation. _She's got something to prove. I can see that,_ the squad leader thought to herself, turning her eyes onto the rest of her valkyries.

Gamage was smiling happily as she stared off into the roof of the Skyranger. The youthful Italian private looked like she was off to spend a happy weekend in Disneyland. Cell smiled slightly at the sight. Either she would make a great soldier, or she would be the first to fall. Gamage's roommates Ratamacue and Pavehawk were sitting on either side of the woman. Rata was a dark-skinned Frenchwoman with a pondering look on her face as she regarded the scatter laser in her hands. It was a weapon usually reserved for the assault and scout classes, but the infantry of XCOM were also familiar and trained with the weapon. Pavehawk rounded off the trio, the no-nonsense Italian rookie whispering something to Gamage every once in a while, drawing seemingly no reactions from the happily-smiling woman.

Jive and Doubleumc rounded off the squad. Jive was trying to focus, but the endless chatter of Doubleumc seemed to make it hard for the South African. The British medic with light-brown hair and a mole on her nose was quite something indeed. Her mouth seemed to be in constant motion, filling whatever space she was in with endless pabulum. Sometimes it was engaging and worth your time; more often than not it wasn't. The medic definitely had a talent for dragging her speech out, and she must have loved the sound her own voice. At least her accent and voice were interesting, allowing Cell to turn the woman's endless droning into pleasant background noise.

The pilot announced their immediate landing and Cell took the attention of the squad, "Listen up, girls. This is a landed UFO, no matter how small. That means all the more glory to us when we come back home to the guys with this baby in tow. Let's show those slobs what the women of XCOM are made of!"

The girls around the Skyranger let out loud cheers and laughs, the dead-serious yelling of Pavehawk especially amusing to Cell. Volatile turned to look at her squad leader and Cell met her gaze with a grin and an encouraging nod. This is what she was made for. A soldier since she turned eighteen, the past seven years all seemed to make sense now. Fighting for a free Earth: this was her calling. This was her destiny.

As the Skyranger came to a landing, Cell was the first to swing aside her safety frame and get up from her seat. Grabbing the autolaser off the rack on the wall, she shouted for everyone to get in formation. The squad formed up on her as the ramp lowered into the scorching June afternoon.

Rushing down the ramp, Cell splashed her way into the shallow brook. A pine forest rose all around the small stream as sunlight glimmered blindingly off the water. However, below the canopy of the forest the shadows ruled but for the occasional ray of sunlight shining down on the undergrowth. It was a hard choice whether to use sunglasses or not, and Cell had given the squad free reign on their equipment in that regard. Volatile slipped on the glasses from Frag's last operation as she strode up to Cell.

"Take Gamage and Jive into the vanguard, we're pushing up on that hill", Cell gave her orders as she signaled towards the rising hillside to their left. Volatile gave a curt nod in response and muttered her acknowledgment as she signaled for Gamage and Jive to join her. Cell followed up with the rest of the squad in formation behind her.

Starting up the sloping hillside, contact wasn't far off. Gamage yelled out her warning as three floaters burst into view through the canopy of the forest. They took cover on the hilltop above them and Cell yelled for her people to get in position behind her. She dashed up to a pine tree and steadied her autolaser as Gamage, Volatile and Jive took fighting positions on her right.

The heavy weapon in her hands burst into life as she laid down suppressive fire on the enemy. Two of the aliens pulled back behind their trees while one dashed forwards, flying wildly through the forest. Laser fire fizzed past the alien as its jets propelled the half-organic, half-machine construct towards her people. Rounding between the last trees on its way towards the soldiers in the vanguard, the alien's flight was cancelled as a surgical laser from the smiling Gamage's laser carbine sliced its head open.

Taking a moment from her suppression duties, Cell let the autolaser cool off. Seeing its moment come, the floater right on top of the hill took a shot at Jive, drawing a scream of pain from the infantrywoman. Cell cursed as she brought her weapon back up, spraying another barrage of high-energy at the enemy. Jive limped away from her position, Volatile slapping the woman in the back as she moved up to take her place. The angle was awkward to assault the enemy entrenched at the top of the hill, and good positions to fight from were few and far between.

A red cloud from Doubleumc's smoke grenade bloomed around Cell as the medic supported her squad from the back. Ratamacue dashed up, taking cover behind an outcropping in the hill. The woman ducked her head down behind the bluff as the enemy held their position, sending a stream of plasma whizzing past her.

As much as Cell loved killing aliens, she didn't really care who in the squad did the killing. "Running dry, push up!" she shouted as the autolaser in her hands heated up for its final round of suppressive fire. As the deafening crashing of the weapon started up once again, Ratamacue jumped up from behind the bluff. She fired her scatter laser at the creature on top of the hill, connecting solidly. The alien yelled in pain as it retreated behind its tree. Retreated too far. A laser from Volatile's rifle struck the creature in the back, dropping it into the undergrowth in a burning husk of flesh and metal.

The last alien on the hill saw its brethren die, and ducked its head down behind the rock it was using for cover. Cell moved up with Gamage and Pavehawk, reloading her autolaser as Ratamacue was firing her scatter laser wildly at the enemy. The Frenchwoman scored a hit and Gamage scored another, but it wasn't enough. Lasers from the rest of the squad fizzled uselessly past the creature's head as it hid behind its rock. Finally the fire halted for a moment, and the alien dashed up. Flying towards the squad in a suicide-charge, it sent a salvo of plasma flying past Ratamacue's head. The woman pulled into cover in front of the assault, and the floater descended on the squad, jets blazing.

The red lights on her autolaser lit up as the fresh energy cell brought the weapon back online. Cell wheeled the heavy gun on target and released a massive spray of energy at the charging floater. The lasers covered a wide area, leaving nothing to chance. The alien gave a muffled howl as the red fire burned away the front of its body, sending it crashing down. The alien hit the ground in front of Cell at full-speed and the towering gunner ducked. The carcass went spiraling over her and down the hillside, finally landing in the stream with an impressive splash. A lazy spiral of smoke rose from its remains as Cell wheeled around to reorient her squad.

Her people reloaded as they took the hill. Ratamacue took the lead with her scatter laser readied, moving along the hillside under the shade of the pine trees. The landed UFO loomed some distance ahead of them, at the end of the long hillside where the stream from beyond the alien craft split up to run along both sides of the hill. Cell took Jive with her as they moved to support Rata and sure enough, an alarm from the Frenchwoman signaled more enemies coming in.

Ducking behind one of the massive pine trees, Rata took cover from the floaters flying in from the UFO. Jive fired her laser rifle next to Cell and the gunner followed suit, their combined efforts dropping the front runner of the enemy into the undergrowth of the forested hill. More laser fire rained down from behind them, sizzling past the remaining two floaters, disappearing into the canopy of needles above them.

Covered by her squad, Rata peeked out from behind her tree. The scatter laser exploded in her hands and another floater dropped from the sky. The woman let out a cheer as she pumped her weapon, but one enemy still remained.

The floater came at Rata with ferocity; whether it was driven by bloodlust or desire to avenge its fallen podmates, Cell didn't know. The creature barreled up towards the canopy of the forest, laser fire fizzing right past it. Reaching the high-point of its flight, its jets reoriented and the floater dove in on Ratamacue like a falcon on the hunt. Cell spun up her autolaser and the descending alien was engulfed in her cone of fire.

It wasn't enough. The floater howled as it closed in on Rata, enraged. The plasma carbine flared in its hand as it sent a salvo at the infantrywoman, striking Rata in her side. The woman let out a sharp cry of pain as she huddled behind the tree in front of the relentless death-charge.

The floater's death-charge, that is. Cell's autolaser spun up once more as she released her fury on the alien. The wounded flier made no sound as it was torn to pieces under the barrage of energy, dropping into the bushes and rocks below it in a smoldering husk. _Come and try to kill one of my girls!_ The thought rose to Cell's mind as the autolaser finally quieted in her hands.

As soon as the last enemy had died, more showed up. From the right side of the hill, a muton lumbered out of the UFO with a pet floater on its heels. "Take the ridge to my left!" Cell cried out and took off towards the enemy. Rata let out a hopeful shot with her scatter laser before complying, taking cover behind another tree to her left. Cell dashed up to the position Rata had occupied previously and took aim. The weapon still had some juice in it, and she wasn't about to let the extremely dangerous enemy combatant go unchecked. The muzzle of her autolaser spat out its crimson fire as she locked down the muton at the end of the hill.

The rest of the squad moved to the ridge under the cover of her fire as Gamage and Doubleumc stayed back to support. The muton responded to her with a wild spray of plasma, the hot air pushing past her helmet. "I'm out!" Cell yelled as the howling of her weapon died down. Hurriedly, she dropped down to one knee and released the empty energy cell as she started to reload. A red cloud bloomed over the squad as Doubleumc supported them from the back once again, the medic's contributions as invaluable to the squad as anyone else's.

Rata had received a dose of painkilling anti-burn foam from Pavehawk's medkit, and the infantrywoman moved into the vanguard once again. Through the cover of the smoke, she ducked her head down as the floater tried to catch her out in the open. The salvo of energy burned its way through the canopy, letting in fresh rays of light on the squad. Rata ducked down under an overturned log, peering towards the enemy. "No eyes on!" the woman reported back to the squad, her view obstructed by the bushes of the forested hillside's undergrowth.

"Jive and Volatile, fall back! We'll set a stepped trap for them! Rata, get back right now!" Cell ordered as she was finishing with her reload, the weapon slowly lighting up once again. Her troopers acknowledged the order and Ratamacue jumped into cover on her left behind a small outcropping of rocks on the top of the hill.

From out of nowhere, a massive jet of plasma burned its way through the undergrowth of the hillside. The fire buried into Ratamacue's chest, and the woman went down with a whimper. "Gamage! Get that medkit on point ASAP!" Cell shouted as she stepped out of cover, clenching her teeth together in anger and determination. She couldn't see the muton that had struck Rata down, but she did see the floater. Laying down a barrage of suppressive fire on the enemy, the alien's return fire whizzed past her as she pinned the creature down behind its rock. Gamage dashed past her to the ridge of the hill, the jolly smile gone from her face as she pulled the first aid kit out of her rigging.

To her right, Doubleumc, Volatile and Jive scrambled down the hillside and into the stream. A laser from Volatile's rifle pierced through the muton's armor and the beast roared defiantly in anger, sending chills down the human combatants' spines. A wild spray from Doubleumc's shatterray fizzed wide and as the alien was about to take cover from the relentless assault on its flank, Jive nailed it to the hillside, a gaping hole burned through its thick armor plating.

Cell's autolaser died down once more as she let the weapon cool down, and the floater fired wildly at her. Gritting her teeth in determination, Cell pushed out of cover to defy the return fire, pinning the enemy down with another huge burst of laser fire. "Move up! I'll cover you!" she yelled over the screaming of her weapon, and the operatives splashed forwards at the bottom of the stream.

Letting the weapon cool for a moment, Cell waited for the enemy to respond. The response never came as the floater hunkered down behind its outcropping in the hillside. _You better fear me_, the gunner thought to herself as the weapon burst into life once again, the lasers leaving scorched patches on the alloys of the UFO behind the enemy.

Yelling out her reload, Cell pulled into cover and looked towards her squad down by the stream. Everyone except Gamage, who was tending to Ratamacue, was there. Their attempts to flank the alien had been cut off by a no-man's land as the shallow stream widened in front of them. Instead of flanking, the operatives were huddled behind overturned logs with weapons steadied and propped up against their cover. And as Cell's suppressive fire had run out, they burst into action.

Jive was the first to take a shot. The laser pierced through the floater's shoulder, sending the defiant alien's return fire wildly off target. Volatile followed up, letting out a sharp yell of victory as the enemy howled in agony, slumping down to the ground.

Finishing her reload, Cell hurried over to Ratamacue and knelt next to Gamage. "She gonna be okay?" she asked as the Italian straightened her back. The woman smiled at her and nodded her response. "Good work, Gamage", Cell complimented her trooper, slapping a hand on her shoulder. Standing up, she saw the rest of her squad join them back on the ridge of the long hill. Leading her squad forwards, they got ready to breach the UFO and its pilot.

Cell led her people to the end of the hillside, weapons trained towards the streams on both sides, looking for more contact. Not hearing anything, she led the squad onto the roof of the UFO from the end of the hill. The squad spread out to the four corners of the UFO as Volatile and Jive jumped down on the door-side.

"Go, go, go!" Cell yelled, and the operatives jumped down around the UFO, breaching in SWAT-style. The outsider materialized into its humanoid form from the crystal perched on the main flight computer, and it dashed towards one of the exits. Cell tried to bring her autolaser on target, but the weapon was too heavy to react so quickly. Laser fire filled the air inside the alien craft as the outsider tried to make its retreat. A beam from Jive punched through the alien as it made its way out of the UFO. "Don't let it get away!" Cell cried, dashing after the enemy.

The outsider bolted out of the UFO through one of the corner doorways. A wild war-cry filled the air as Pavehawk jumped down from the roof of the UFO and onto the alien, pinning it to the bed of the stream with a huge splash. The laser rifle in the rookie's hands flared up and the dust from the alien pilot spread out into the water, drifting away lazily as its remnants glimmered in the afternoon sunlight.

Cell brought a hand up to her earpiece as she called Big Sky, "Area clear, we have one trooper down, repeat, one trooper in critical condition. Move your ass and get the paramedics over here, Tectonic out." Turning to the rest of the squad, she relayed her orders.

"Gamage and Doubleumc, get back to Rata right now! Make sure she's okay and lead the paramedics to her. Jive and Volatile, secure the craft. Pavehawk, you're coming with me to the LZ." The woman paused for a moment before following up, "Great job everyone, you did me proud."

The troopers followed her orders, Pavehawk getting up from the stream. The woman was absolutely soaked but she wore a wicked grin on her lips, baring some of her teeth. Volatile turned to give Jive a slap on the back and the South African responded in kind, the dark-skinned women ready to secure the perimeter. Gamage and Doubleumc were off towards their wounded comrade, the medic's mouth already in motion mere seconds after the end of contact.

Cell smiled slightly as Pavehawk joined her inside the UFO. _Some of them might be a bit green, but they'll be great operatives. Every one of them,_ she thought to herself as she turned towards the stream and the Skyranger LZ, ready to wrap up the operation.


	39. Chapter 38: The Kill Switch

Chapter 38: The Kill Switch

Kilroy walked down the crowded afternoon streets of Sydney. The early July sun was scorching hot as the covert operative scanned the streets through her dark shades. XCOM had been fighting an intelligence war against the global terrorist organization EXALT for a little over one and a half months now and had engaged their troops on the field in three separate occasions during covert operations with the goal of eliminating their cells and gaining new intelligence on the elusive organization. However, the data XCOM had acquired had only been drops in a vast ocean as they struggled to understand the organization's infrastructure, as well as the true motives behind their actions.

This was the big one. The operation to gain ground on their enemy from within. The Council's agency in Australia had been contacted by an identity calling himself Deep Throat. He had demanded direct contact with XCOM's intelligence teams and after serious consideration and safety measures, the commander of Earth's finest had agreed. Deep Throat was an operative high up in EXALT's hierarchy and he had offered to provide information on EXALT's activities where possible. The man claimed he had become disillusioned with his organization's actions and was willing to contribute to their downfall. Without drawing any unnecessary attention and danger to his own person, that is.

Kilroy shook her head as she pushed past a crowd of people gathered at a marketplace. She didn't like the idea of relying on their informant. She didn't trust him, and felt there must have been some ulterior motives the man wasn't sharing with them. But his intel had proven useful over the past two weeks, and The Council and XCOM had decided it was time to make their move.

_This guy has been watching too much X-files,_ Kilroy thought to herself as she made her way towards the abandoned warehouse at the edge of the neighborhood. They had finally managed to convince Deep Throat into a personal meeting. The purpose of the meeting was the transfer of sensitive physical data. Or at least that's what the EXALT operative had been led to believe. The real goal for XCOM and The Council was to seize their informant and interrogate him. They would hopefully be able to coerce him into being a true double-agent within the organization; if that proved to be doubtful, they would extract whatever information the man wasn't willing to part with otherwise and be done with him. The scraps he had been offering them were useful, but there was potential for something so much more.

"_How are you enjoying your walk in the sun, Sheriff?" _a voice came through on Kilroy's earpiece. It was the voice of an agent from her support squad, code name Dealer. He was sitting in a car some distance from the meeting place, and would be the one giving Kilroy and Deep Throat their ride home.

Kilroy furrowed her brow under her shades. She didn't like the carefree tone of her partner. This operation had the potential to give them the upper hand over EXALT without them ever knowing it. "Just focus on the op. Don't contact me for nothing", she casually spoke into the crowd. No one paid her any attention. She had become truly comfortable wearing the shoes of a covert agent. It seemed so bizarre; back in her time with FBI's HRT, they had always joked about the agents and their wild goose chases. She smiled slightly as she wondered what the people of her old outfit would think of her now.

Kilroy crossed the remaining blocks separating the meeting place from the market as she arrived at the abandoned warehouse. A massive sign across the front signaled the building was destined for deconstruction as Kilroy strolled around to the back. There were no civilians present in the area, as expected. Deep Throat had of course demanded only one person come to the meeting from XCOM's side. They had complied; to some extent. Dealer and another car driver were located on either adjacent block, and a small emergency combat squad was in position inside the apartment building facing the warehouse. They were almost certain Deep Throat didn't have any accomplices inside EXALT who could have come to his aid, but it was deemed wiser to try and win the man's trust by giving the illusion they had respected his wishes. No need to display excessive force.

Kilroy pushed open the green sheet metal door and stepped into the warehouse. Her laser pistol was tugged into a concealed holster at the small of her back, under the waistband of her jeans. She lifted her shades and perched them into her hair as she glanced around the large hangar-like hall. Catwalks ran along the edges of the grey walls and old shipping containers of all colors littered the floor. Making her way into the middle of the hall, she began to wonder whether this contact of theirs had bailed out on her.

"Good day to you, agent Scully", a voice spoke from in front of her. Kilroy came to a halt as a handsome man wearing a dapper white shirt blouse and khaki pants stepped out from behind a blue shipping container. The man's brown hair was slicked back and he wore a smug grin on his face. A bag was slung over his shoulder as he raised a hand in greeting.

Kilroy lifted an unimpressed eyebrow at the greeting. _He really HAS been watching too much X-files_, she thought to herself, but to the man she responded, "Good to see you showed up after all, Deep Throat. Do you have the goods?"

The EXALT operative let out a chuckle as he swung the bag from his shoulder and offered it up for Kilroy. "Straight into business, I see. Yet another difference between our two organizations, I assure you an exchange like this would take platitude after platitude and secrets upon secrets in mine."

Kilroy reached over and grabbed the bag. She unzipped the container and regarded the stack of paper files and the flash drive inside. Zipping it back up, she slung the bag across her chest and turned her eyes to regard the man in front of her. _Tread carefully,_ she thought to herself as she prepared to confront the man.

"So, are we done here Sheriff? Or would you like to chat me up now that you finally got your face-to-face meeting?" the man spoke in a carefree tone, but the way he was glancing up at the catwalks betrayed his nervousness. Was he expecting XCOM operatives to jump down around them? Or was he expecting EXALT to have discovered his betrayal? Or had he been playing them all along, wondering why his backup was taking so long to capture Kilroy?

"How about we have a chat somewhere a bit more pleasant? This setting is quite dull and… unkempt for a finely dressed fellow like you", Kilroy spoke up, keeping an intent eye on the EXALT operative's face.

The man furrowed his brow as he looked back at Kilroy, "What do you mean?"

Kilroy drew in a deep breath. "You claim you want to bring down EXALT, Deep Throat. All of this data you have given us is useful, but it's practically nothing in the grand scheme of things. Let me help you help us. Come with me and we'll make you an XCOM operative. A real double-agent." Having spoken her proposal, Kilroy braced herself for the reaction.

The man's eyes widened as he stared at Kilroy. Glancing around once more, the paranoia was apparent in his eyes. "No way, man. You have people here? I knew it. Fuck that, I'm not coming with you. I'm not gonna die for this!"

The reaction caught Kilroy off-guard. She had expected a calm and collected response from the man, or possibly an angry one. Not once during their contact with Deep Throat had he shown any inclination to anything but professionalism, but the growing panic in his movements and his rising voice were definitely far from professional.

"Hey, we can talk this through-", Kilroy's attempts to calm the man were cut off as he wheeled around and took off in a heated run. Cursing under her breath, Kilroy sprinted after the man.

Deep Throat was fast and had a head start on her, but Kilroy steadily gained ground on him as she chased him through the corridors created by the stacked shipping containers. Their footsteps echoed eerily inside the large hangar as the man weaved his way through the landscape with ease. _He must have planned the route,_ Kilroy thought as she pushed her legs harder, his back drawing ever closer now.

The man took a hard left, and Kilroy bolted after him. Taking the turn, she yelled out loud as the heavy door of a shipping container swung towards her. Crashing into the thick metal, a jolt of pain ran through her body as she was brought to a dead-stop, the shades in her hair flying off and clattering to the floor. Falling flat on her ass, Kilroy cursed as she saw Deep Throat disappear between the containers ahead of her. Struggling back to her feet she took after the man once again.

His footsteps echoed around her as Kilroy struggled to get her bearings. She had lost sight of the EXALT operative and she couldn't see the walls of the hangar from her position. Shipping containers stacked up to five crates high surrounded her as she glanced helplessly in all directions. "Tell me you're reacting, jackass. Intercept this asshole, I've lost sight of him", she hissed into the mic hidden inside her T-shirt. Not waiting for an answer, she took off in the direction she thought the footsteps were coming from, although the echo made it impossible to tell for certain.

Kilroy ran along the valley created by the shipping containers and finally after a couple of turns, she saw the gray wall of the hangar some distance ahead of her. She heard a door open and slam shut somewhere to her left, and she sprinted for the door in front of her. Crashing out into the daylight, Kilroy glanced around her surroundings.

She was on the side of the long warehouse, cracked asphalt under her feet. To her right an old forklift rested against a stack of pallets, and to her left the main street ran across the front of the building. She could see Deep Throat crossing the street in full sprint, headed towards where she had come into the area from, and Kilroy pushed her head down as she started after the man once again. _I'm gonna make you fucking pay for this, you asshole._

The EXALT operative was keenly aware of the woman giving him chase, and of her superior speed. As Kilroy crossed the street and was steadily gaining ground on him, the man didn't turn into one of the alleyways as she had expected. Instead, he kept on running along the main street and towards the direction of the crowded market. _Oh great, just what I need. My face on the cover of The Sydney Morning Herald,_ a dry thought crossed Kilroy's mind as she kept her breathing going hard, the oxygen pumping into her body as she pushed on. She was in excellent condition and the man would lose out sooner or later. Hopefully sooner.

People started to populate the streets as she chased down the EXALT operative. They were giving the two of them puzzled looks and Kilroy even heard a yelled inquiry as to what was going on. It was only one more block to the market, and the stream of people on the streets was getting thicker and thicker. She cursed silently as the man turned left, headed straight for the marketplace.

Kilroy burst out into the square, tall buildings rising all around the large open area filled with people and stands. Deep Throat was pushing his way through the crowd, drawing surprised yells and exclamations of indignation from the people around him. Kilroy followed, roughly shoving away the people in front of her. "Get the hell outta my way!" she yelled as a group of college students were staring after the EXALT operative, whispering to each other. They turned around to look at Kilroy in disbelief. Tackling her way through them, Kilroy toppled one of the girls over as she kept her pace up, drawing angry yells from the people behind her. _Can't slow down. Can't lose him or it's over._

Deep Throat burst his way through a stand selling fruit and Kilroy cursed as apples, oranges and watermelons came flying at her feet. She stumbled her way through the devastation, almost slipping on the wet tiling. The owner of the stand was crying out in disbelief and Kilroy gritted her teeth as she pushed over yet another bystander who was dumb enough to not step aside. Even with his delaying tactics, Kilroy was steadily gaining on the EXALT operative. The market around them was positively bustling as people from further away were starting to be drawn towards the commotion, the air filled with shouts of curiosity, indignation and anger.

Kilroy was mere fifteen meters from the man as he diverted off to the left once again, heading towards an alley leading away from the market. The man rounded the corner and Kilroy followed. The crowd was behind them now, with only a few curious people looking on close-by at the woman giving chase to the dapper fellow. Turning into the alley, Kilroy's heart jumped with excitement. It was a dead end.

Deep Throat was desperately scaling the chain-link fence at the end of the short alley. Kilroy sprung up to the man and grabbed onto his shirt's back. Jerking hard, she heard the material rip as the man's grip came loose, crashing him into the asphalt below. His head banged hard against the ground and a glazed look appeared into his eyes.

Kilroy looked up towards the mouth of the alleyway and spoke into her mic with urgency, "Goddammit Dealer, where are you. I need extraction right the fuck now or a crowd of very curious Aussies is gonna put an end to this operation."

As if on cue, a black car with tinted windows came to a screeching halt across the alleyway. Kilroy grabbed Deep Throat by the front of his shirt and pulled him up. The man was swaying and clearly disoriented, but at least he was on his feet. He mumbled frantic denials as Kilroy dragged him towards the car. Pulling open the back door, she tossed the man into the seats and jumped inside, pulling the door shut behind her.

Dealer glanced at her through the rear-view mirror as he took off, tires screeching. The crowd from the market had been pulling towards their location but as the car accelerated and wheeled around, the people stumbled away from the vehicle. Taking off into the streets, the agent opened his mouth, "Goddamn, Sheriff. Couldn't find a more public place to pull this off?"

Kilroy stared daggers at the man, catching her breath. She shook her head as she bit back the bitter comebacks that came to mind. _He's right. I shouldn't have let him get away. He caught me off-guard._ Instead of bickering with her partner, she turned towards the man slumped across the backseats.

Reaching over, she slapped the man on his cheek. "Hey, wake up asshole! That's right, you. Wake up, douchebag!" she yelled, slapping and pinching at his face ever harder. The man shook his head as his eyes started to focus. Kilroy stopped her assault on him and the man struggled to a sitting position, running both hands over his face.

"No, no, no, no, no…" a low denial rose from behind his hands. The man lowered his arms and looked at Kilroy with distraught eyes. "They're gonna kill me, man. Why did you have to kill me, I was helping. No, no, I don't wanna die." His tone was frantic and his breathing was getting quicker as his own words seemed to be fueling the growing panic inside of him.

Kilroy slapped the man, speaking in a low growl, "Shut up! Pull yourself together, they're not going to get to you. As long as you take this easy and cool, we're gonna make this work, okay?" Even as she spoke the encouraging words, she knew there was no way the man would be made into a double-agent anymore. They would extract whatever info they could from him and that would be that. Kilroy hoped he wouldn't be killed after they were done with him, tossed away like a cheap toy once it had served its purpose. But quite frankly, that was none of her concern. Her job had been to get the man to their people alive, and she had done that. Well, would soon have done that.

The man cowered into the corner of the seat, covering his head with his hands. He was absolutely terrified as his eyes stared off into the distance. "You don't get it, man. The switch. They're gonna flip the switch."

A chill ran down Kilroy's spine at the ominous words. She glanced at the rear-view mirror to find Dealer giving her a surprised look. "Switch? What switch?" Kilroy spoke the question, even as a growing suspicion sneaked its way into her mind.

The EXALT operative hung his head down, grasping at his temples. "The kill switch. They're gonna kill me when I don't return, man."

The man's words hit Kilroy hard. Looking at Dealer in the rear-view mirror and then back at the man, she spoke the words even as she absolutely knew the man was telling the truth, "You've gotta be fucking shitting me."

* * *

Kilroy was staring through the tall windows into the crimson Sydney evening. Sun was setting down over the city as Deep Throat was being operated on in the bedroom. Dealer was sitting in an armchair in the corner of the room, deep in thought. Kilroy took off once again, pacing around the room. They had worked so hard to get him to come out; it couldn't end like this.

The kill switch implanted inside the EXALT operatives was a complex piece of technology. Deep Throat had told them about it after his panic had turned into quiet despair. The EXALT surgeons implanted the device created using MELD into the hearts of important members of their organization. The device doubled for monitoring the vitals of the subject as well as ending the vitals of the subject. With the flip of a switch, the people at the top of EXALT could cause multi-system failure within its own members.

_What kind of a sick fuck does that to their own people,_ Kilroy thought once again, the absolute lack of morality within EXALT still shaking and disgusting her. Deep Throat had told them no one knew how many of the people within EXALT had these switches installed. They were forbidden to discuss the issue with each other, and he hadn't had access to the data. Everyone was expected to serve the purposes of the organization and its leaders without question. The scary part wasn't the lack of morality in implanting the kill switch. It was how many people seemed to embrace it without question.

It had been the installment of the kill switch that had turned Deep Throat around. He knew of people who had had similar regrets as they had risen in the EXALT hierarchy. They had all been executed. The man had taken a massive risk in seeking out XCOM, and he was about to pay the price for it. Kilroy wiped a hand across her face as the wait seemed to stretch on forever. The surgeon had disappeared into the bedroom to work on Deep Throat a mere half an hour ago and the operation was expected to last hours, yet it felt like it already had.

_I wonder if the man in Tucson had one of these switches. Would explain why they were spooked when I killed him,_ Kilroy thought to herself as she tried to distract herself from what was going on in the room next to her. She doubted your normal field operatives would have such expensive surgery done on them, but who can tell? They would have to be careful about killing enemy operatives on the field now if there was a chance it could blow their cover instantly.

The door to the bedroom swung open and Kilroy wheeled around. The sound of the flatline from the EKG filled the air as the surgeon stepped out, pulling his long, bloodied latex gloves off and tossing them onto the floor. His plastic apron was soiled with blood and his bearded face was emotionless but for the eyes. They were hard and cold and full of anger as he regarded Kilroy.

The surgeon pointed a finger at Kilroy as he opened his mouth, the tone of his voice betraying the fury inside, "You drag me here without a moment's notice and expect me to pull off this crazy shit in the fucking bedroom of a goddamn apartment building? I wash my hands of this. His blood is on your hands." The man untied the apron and slung it down to the floor in a display of anger, rushing out into the balcony while digging a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

Kilroy closed her eyes and clenched her fists, the nails digging into her palms. Taking a deep breath, she tried to steady herself as the mess of emotions rushed about inside of her. Opening her eyes, she saw the surgeon's assistant pull a sheet over the deceased operative as she moved about the bedroom, cleaning up after the failed operation.

Dealer walked up to her, speaking up in a vain attempt to console her, "Hey, at least we still have the data he gave us, right? It's better than nothing."

Kilroy gave the man a poisonous stare, wanting to grab him by the shoulders and shake him hard. It was indeed something, but it was small fry. Biting back the desire to scream her frustration at the man, Kilroy instead turned towards the balcony. She hadn't smoked since their R&amp;R in Nagoya, but the urgency at which her mind was screaming for nicotine couldn't be ignored right now. The surgeon would share with her, whether he liked it or not.

Without a word, Kilroy left Dealer standing in the middle of the room as she pushed out into the beautiful sunset. Her mind was boiling with hatred and disgust for EXALT, with disappointment and frustration at herself, and with pity and sympathy for the man she had known as Deep Throat.


	40. Chapter 39: The News

Chapter 39: The News

"Oh yeah, sure. It must have been SO hard hitting those flanks up on that billboard. We could've literally replaced you with my mother!" DSM's friendly gibes filled the air at the operatives' break room as she goaded Iku on. The sniper and scout were sitting at the end of the counter as Renzol, Instinct and Wootastic rounded off the squad that had returned from their operation in Chicago.

Iku shook his head indignantly as he took a sip from his cider. The scout was always laying it on him thick, even when he had done better than her on the operation. Laying his pint down, Iku responded with a scowl, "Why are you this lively again? Go back to your sulking."

The scout responded with a cackle of a laugh and a big swig of her beer. She always enjoyed drawing a reaction out of Iku, although she didn't really know why it was so satisfying to push his buttons. Maybe it had something to do with the man's gloomy attitude that Daishi had said was similar to DSM's.

Behind the counter, Orgun was spinning two bottles filled with water through the air as he practiced his juggling skills. The Irishman was the self-proclaimed bartender of XCOM and he seemed to be spending more time practicing his skills with a bottle than with a rocket these days. Flipping the bottles over himself one after the other, he caught them behind his back as he kept the circle going. Instinct, Wootastic and Renzol were following the man's actions with baited breath and as he slammed the bottles on the counter after the tenth successful round, his display was rewarded with applause and laughter.

"Ten rounds, baby! I guess it's three bottles next. Oh boy." An apprehensive look appeared on Orgun's face as he uttered the last words, drawing smiles from the people facing him. There was just something about his merry spirits and good-natured banter that made smiling the immediate response to anything he did.

DSM sneered at the man. "You better put those bottles down boy and get back to school. Renzol here is leaving your ass in the dust, she's getting promoted to tech sergeant!" The drinks were loosening her up quite a bit, and she found herself surprised by the ease at which the banter left her lips. She wasn't really known for socializing within the outfit with others than Daishi, whom she'd become good friends with despite their vastly different personalities.

Orgun lifted a surprised eyebrow at the comment, turning to Renzol. "That true? Damn, congrats Renzol! I guess I'll be taking extra lessons from you now, huh?" the rocketeer spoke his genuine congratulations, drawing a smile and the slightest of blushes from Renzol.

The small rocketeer almost looked like she was going to modestly play down the achievement. But instead, she nodded in acknowledgment and smiled at her peer, "Thanks. You know where to find me if you need me." Orgun responded with a hearty laugh as Renzol took a sip of her cider.

Instinct leaned against the counter at the end of the line. The Nigerian assault was a real hunk of meat like his friend Wolfer, but in such a strikingly different way. Where Wolfer was tall, massive and white, Instinct was short, broad and black. Where Wolfer was aggressive and offensive in his fighting style, Instinct was deliberate and defensive. "Are we gonna take those drinks for Merlin and Medve or not?" the assault raised his deep bass voice.

Wootastic flung her arms in the air and let out a loud cheer, the brunette German always ready to party. The rest of the operatives responded with nods and Orgun turned towards the liquor shelf, asking over his shoulder, "Let me guess their poison… tequila for Merlin and bourbon for Medve?" Receiving nods of agreement from the counter, the man started pouring the drinks.

The two of them had received light wounds during the operation and had gone straight into the medbay to start with their treatment. The war with the aliens had heated up during the summer and with EXALT added into the mix, XCOM needed all of its troopers in top condition. It was no time to skip treatment in order to get a few post-op drinks in.

Orgun slammed down the shot and whiskey glasses in front of the operatives and started pouring, both bottles in one hand. As he got to Renzol, the woman covered the glasses with her hand. "I'm good", she muttered, drawing a curiously raised eyebrow from Orgun. "I have business to take care of", Renzol followed up, letting out a small giggle as Orgun turned his mugging up a notch before moving on to the next set of glasses on the counter.

Wootastic leaned in closer to Renzol, her face drawn into an exaggerated pout. "Oh come on Salty! How can you do that to Merlin and Medve? They'll be sad without their drinks", she pleaded in a whining voice. Renzol glanced at the carefree young engineer with a smile. She didn't really know Wootastic, but she seemed so naive and young it made Renzol feel like an old crone, even though they were both in their mid-twenties.

With everyone having their drinks in front of them, Instinct led them in a toast. First the tequila for Merlin's health, followed by the bourbon for Medve's. Renzol toasted with her cider, draining the pint and excusing herself from the company.

The post-op drinks stretched on as the roommates Wootastic and Instinct were humored by Orgun while DSM continued her bickering with Iku, the alcohol spurring them on.

* * *

Wolfer found himself sitting in the computer room once again, like so many nights before. It was a small space next to the TV room and contained six computers on which the operatives could play simple games and browse the internet. Internet access was heavily restricted for security reasons, but Wolfer could reach the site he was looking for just fine.

The room was empty but for the big assault, and he took in a shaky breath. He was staring at The Detroit News website, cursor hovering over the search bar. He was constantly back-and-forth on the issue. I have to know. I don't want to know. I have to know but I don't have the courage to. Like so many nights before, it seemed like there would be no conclusion tonight.

The first time he had come here he had punched in the easy search words. With a satisfied smile, he had read about the massacre in the suburbs of Detroit where a gang of Neo-Nazis had been wiped out by what the news had called "territorial gang wars". Wolfer knew better. It seemed EXALT hadn't taken too kindly to Lamont's inability to keep their operation hidden and safe.

The second search words were much, much harder. Wolfer still found himself struggling to find sleep on some nights when the image of the young black man lying on the asphalt rose to mind. He had to know; but once he did, there was no turning back. For better or for worse.

Clicking the search field, Wolfer placed his fingers on the keyboard. A cold sweat rose to his forehead as a sickening feeling of anticipation rose in the pit of his stomach. _Just get it over with. No more. I can't deal with this shit anymore._ Punching in the words, he hit enter and looked on apprehensively as the site loaded.

Wolfer had to scroll back quite a bit before the dates of the news matched. He held his breath as more stories loaded in: this was good. No news was good, it meant it hadn't broken the threshold. Then the headline struck him hard, like a wet sandbag slung straight against his abdomen.

_Another young African-American man found beaten to death as hate-crimes continue to spiral out of control in Detroit._ Wolfer closed his eyes, sitting still for a moment. After five or so deep breaths, he opened his eyes and clicked the link. The date and location matched, there was no doubt about it. _Me. That was me. I did that._ He felt sick right down to his guts, the uncertainty of not knowing gone and replaced with the guilt and disgust of knowing.

The door to the computer room creaked as it opened and Wolfer's heart jumped in his chest. Scrambling for the mouse, he struggled to close the browser like a ten-year-old caught masturbating on his parent's computer. A clearly buzzed Instinct let out a bellow of a laugh as he strode up to the man, leaning in to peek at the monitor, now only displaying the desktop.

"What you looking at there, Wolfer old buddy? Porn?" the man inquired with an amused voice. Wolfer responded with a shake of his head and a muttered denial, his heart beating fast in his chest and adrenaline rushing through his veins.

Instinct turned from the monitor to survey Wolfer's face, surprised by the meek response. Lifting an eyebrow the Nigerian assault smirked at his friend, "Gay porn?"

Already on the edge, the intoxicated man's jokes didn't exactly go over well with Wolfer. Pushing himself up from the desk, the big man stared angrily at Instinct, the temper in his voice concealing the distress below, "Did you have something you wanted, Instinct? Or are you here just to piss me off?"

Instinct straightened his back and regarded Wolfer with wary eyes. "Poker. You play it, jackass?"

Shaking his head, Wolfer pushed past his friend and muttered his refusal. He needed time alone, and he certainly couldn't deal with Instinct right now. How would he react if he knew? How would anyone react? He needed to clear his head.

And so he left his friend standing in the computer room, baffled at the moody reaction. Wolfer headed for the martial arts room, ready to beat the entirety of the outfit's punching bags into submission if that's what it took to clear his mind and rid himself of the feelings wallowing inside of him.


	41. Chapter 40: Two of a kind

Chapter 40: Two of a kind

Cell was sitting on a tree stump, smoke drifting lazily upwards from her cigar. The landed Raider-class UFO was lying on the edge of the forest, the goods from inside being ferried over by the Council's engineering team. The gunner looked on as they loaded up the wreck of the weird, disc-shaped alien robot into one of the cargo aircraft that resembled the Skyranger in design, albeit much slower and designed for the transfer of alien artifacts rather than troops.

Renzol was kneeling next to Cell, cleaning her rocket launcher. The rocketeer had done an amazing job with the mechanized pods of aliens, wiping out drones and seekers en masse. As the gunner and rocketeer on the operation, they had formed the anti-mech part of the squad. Cell enjoyed working with the quiet and withdrawn woman. She never felt like the silence between them was awkward. Rather, it seemed to have an air of professionalism to it.

Taking a puff from her cigar she sampled the smooth, vanilla-flavored smoke in her mouth before letting it out in small circles. There was nothing quite like the quiet moments of down-time after a successful operation. Those had always been her favorites in the Foreign Legion as well; the harsh training and even harsher battles making those small moments of peace worth it. Cell smiled quietly to herself as her softer side manifested itself in those thoughts. She was known as a hard-ass around the outfit, but like with anyone else, that was only the tip of the iceberg.

She regarded Renzol with thoughtful eyes as the rocketeer worked on her launcher. There was another person who was hiding something beneath the surface. Everyone in the outfit knew of Renzol's change, except for some of the newer recruits. Cell wondered whether the woman had truly changed, or if she was just hiding it all somewhere deep inside. Maybe that was one of the reasons she felt so comfortable with the rocketeer lately; they were similar yet in completely opposite ways.

Renzol had been lost and without confidence when the conflict had begun. If her outward appearance and actions were to be believed, she was now the best and brightest of XCOM's operatives, full of confidence and demanding of both herself and her fellow operatives.

Cell on the other hand had been a certified grade-A badass since day one. Yet with the fall of South Africa, an insecurity long since buried had awoken deep inside of her. It was slowly consuming her from within, and the woman wasn't sure how much longer she could keep it a secret. Maybe she shouldn't keep it a secret? Maybe confiding in someone was exactly what she needed to do to move on. But seven years alone and abroad, living your life amongst a harsh military outfit doesn't necessarily breed that type of mindset on you. Cell had learned to deal with things by herself, and she intended to keep it that way.

_We're not so different, you and I Renzol. And yet, we're still completely different,_ Cell mused to herself, slowly puffing away on her cigar. A familiar shout from the direction of the UFO pulled her away from her thoughts. Scubaman was signaling for the two of them to get going; the operation had been wrapped up, and it was time to head back to the Skyranger.

Picking up her autolaser, Cell swung the weapon on her back. "Come on, Renzol. Let's go." The words weren't really required as the rocketeer was already getting up to her feet, slipping the rocket launcher onto her back. Yet speaking her name seemed oddly appropriate to Cell. Renzol smiled at her and nodded her approval as they took off towards the squad, the rest of the operatives now emerging from the interior of the UFO.

Walking side by side, the difference between them was striking. Cell stood a head above the small rocketeer, her hair raven dark compared to the blonde strands peeking from under Renzol's beret. Turning to the rocketeer, Cell spoke before she gave the idea any particular thought, "Renzol? Are you training tonight?"

The small woman turned her head, looking up at Cell. A distant look appeared into her eyes as she considered her answer. "I was going to hit the gym before it gets too late", she finally answered, an inquisitive look in her eyes speaking the follow up: _why so?_

"Mind if I join you?" The question leaving her lips surprised even Cell herself. She wasn't sure why she was suddenly seeking Renzol out. It wasn't like she didn't have friends amongst the outfit, quite the opposite. She came along great with everyone in her room, including the infuriating duo of Orgun and Scubaman. She always had a blast with Medve, Hypergeek, Van Doorn and the visiting guests of their whiskey and cigar club.

And despite all that company, she felt lonely and lost. The old photograph hidden within her small wooden chest had awoken those feelings inside her. Even as she wanted to deny it, she knew it to be true. She wasn't consciously looking for Renzol's company, yet something had driven her to. Maybe it was the kindred spirit she felt within the small German. Maybe it was her subconscious telling her to deal with the emotions within.

As she heard her name called again, Cell came to from her thoughts. Flustered, she turned to Renzol and muttered an apology, asking the woman to repeat herself.

Renzol gave her a doubtful look, but her blue eyes were glimmering with amusement. "Sure, I could use a spotter. I need to improve on my bench press", she repeated and Cell muttered her acknowledgment and a thank you in response.

Joining the rest of the squad, Cell shook the heavy thoughts from her mind. She tried to keep from thinking about the photograph as much as she could. It was bad enough it regularly made its presence known uninvited; she didn't need to be thinking about it consciously.

The smirk on Scubaman's lips drew her own up to a smile. Slamming a hand on the officer's shoulder, Cell inquired what shenanigans he had been up to inside the UFO. The legendary misuse of his officer's privileges in setting up Squint's and Kamikaze's "Recovery Day dinner" had become a favorite story within the outfit, and the lieutenant had escaped any disciplinary actions simply due to the good-will of the act and the positive effects it had had on morale according to the commander.

Chatting away happily, the soldiers made their way over to the Skyranger and back towards the headquarters of XCOM, the heavy feelings banished from Cell's mind for now.


	42. Chapter 41: The Helmet

Chapter 41: The Helmet

Squint rested her head against Kamikaze's shoulder as they lay down in the man's bunk, his arm wrapped around her. The room was empty but for Volatile and Iku at the other end, both focused on their novels. Squint watched Kamikaze's chest rise and fall with his steady breathing as they relaxed together, the day's arduous training done and dusted with.

Closing her eyes, Squint smiled as she snuggled more comfortably against Kamikaze. Laying a hand on his chest, she traced gentle lines along his muscles, the feeling of another body so close to hers igniting all sorts of feelings inside: passion, comfort, safety, contentment. The fingers gently petting her arm ceased their work, and Squint let out a disgruntled noise. Not getting the desired reaction, she fidgeted around a little, a low complaint leaving her lips, "Brushie! Brushie-brush brush!"

Kamikaze let out a small chuckle and resumed his caresses. Pleased with the outcome, Squint let out a low purr-turned-giggle as she buried herself deeper against the man. She hoped they could stay like this forever; that the call of duty would never come.

They had been rehabilitated and on training for over a week now, and had been put back on rotation tonight. Their next mission would undoubtedly come sooner rather than later, but at least Squint could comfort herself in knowing Kamikaze would be there with her. With her thoughts having turned towards the real world once again, Squint's mood dropped down a notch. Stirring against Kamikaze, she struggled up to her elbows and propped her chin and arms against the man's chest.

Kamikaze craned his neck up from the pillow as he felt Squint stir. Their eyes meeting, Squint finally spoke up after the quiet and blissful rest, "Are you eager to get back out there?" She surveyed Kamikaze's expression as the man crossed his arms behind his head, resting back down against the pillow.

"Yeah. I've been on the sidelines for way too long. I was there at Nagoya on day one, with Drake, Medve and everyone else. It's high time I started catching up." The man smiled slightly as he spoke, his eyes distant as he thought back to the operations and work he had done within the outfit. Turning back to Squint, his expression softened as he considered the woman, _his_ woman, staring at him. "Are you worried?" A raised hand followed the question, gently caressing Squint's back.

Laying her cheek against Kamikaze's chest, Squint closed her eyes and enjoyed the tingling sensation on her skin. Letting out a deep sigh she responded, her heart a little heavier as she shed light on the feelings once again, "I guess so. I mean, I'm not really afraid. Just anxious, you know? Like having to wait and not knowing when it'll happen… I can't really explain it." Opening her eyes, she looked Kamikaze in the eye. "I just kinda hope it already happened. Get it over with, like ripping a band-aid."

Kamikaze smiled compassionately, rolling over to his side and pulling the woman closer. His arms wrapped around her in a tight embrace and Squint giggled as she pressed herself closer to his body, letting his proximity wash away the anxiousness. He was shower-fresh and she could smell the faint scent of his soap and the detergent used to wash his military T-shirt. Closing her eyes, she let herself enjoy the moment and forget about the world once again.

After a while, Kamikaze spoke up, breaking the far-too short embrace even though it must have lasted a good five minutes, "Come on, Squint. I want to give you something." The man got up to a sitting position, leaving Squint slumping into the warm and now empty blankets. Rolling over in the aftermath of the cuddles, she let out a yawn as she stretched her slender body. Kamikaze smiled at her as he got up, walking over to his closet.

"What is it?" Squint inquired, peering over at the man from the bed. Kamikaze gave her an amused look and shook his head, gesturing for her to come over. With another satisfied stretch, Squint got up and sauntered over, brushing up her disheveled hair.

Kamikaze leaned into the closet, keeping the door half-closed so she couldn't see inside. Squint followed with curiosity while glancing towards the back of the room. Iku and Volatile had looked up from their novels, following the couple with mild interest.

"Close your eyes", came the order from Kamikaze, and Squint complied. Standing straight, she smiled in anticipation. Pulling back from the closet, Kamikaze lifted his worn and battered kevlar helmet, placing the piece of armor on Squint's small head. The helmet tilted, falling forwards to cover her eyes.

Squint let out a small, high-pitched yelp as she brought up her hands to steady the helmet. Kamikaze laughed heartily at the sight: light brown hair streaming from under the rim of the oversized helmet, the hat concealing all but the tip of her nose and her red, enticing lips.

"It suits you. You look cute in it", he uttered, leaning in and stealing a kiss from her lips. Squint flushed bright red under the helmet, finally lifting the rim so she could see. She regarded Kamikaze with embarrassed, menacing and playful eyes. She knew Volatile and Iku were grinning as they watched the scene, and she would have to get even later.

Breaking into a full-blown smile at the grinning man in front of her, Squint turned her attention up to the helmet. She wheeled it from side to side, raising her voice in a question, "You're giving me your helmet? Why?"

"That's my lucky helmet", Kamikaze replied, his smile ever-widening as he took in the sight of Squint's adorable features under the bruised and battered piece of combat gear.

Squint gave him a sideways look, her voice carrying a glimmer of humor as she doubted the man's words, "Lucky? You? Mister big man whom they named FUBAR?"

Kamikaze shook his head as he chuckled at her response. "I'm standing right here in front of you, aren't I?" Reaching for her hands, he helped Squint remove the helmet from her head and bring it between them. Guiding her fingers over the torn and burnt camo cover stretched over the kevlar, he recounted the stories.

"Plasma burn from a floater's carbine in Brazil. This one was from a seeker, on our mission." Bringing her fingers over to a large rip in the cloth, he smiled as their fingers traced over the patched-up kevlar, the rough surface still showing the outlines of the gaping hole that used to be there. "Shrapnel from Orgun's rocket. I still have the piece in my closet."

Squint followed his lead solemnly, lifting her chin to face him as he finished with the story. "That's really something, Kamikaze. Thank you. But it's still too big." To demonstrate the fact, she plopped the helmet back on her head and laughed as it slid over her eyes. Kamikaze lifted the rim with a finger, smiling at her as she emerged from under the helmet.

"We can adjust the straps. It'll be fine. Unless you don't want it?" His last words drew a furious shake of her head from Squint, causing the helmet to wobble uncontrollably on her, drawing laughs from the couple. Volatile and Iku joined them and Squint stuck her tongue out at the eavesdroppers, only spurring them on as they spectated the scene from their bunks.

Turning back to look at Kamikaze, Squint smiled at the man. Muttering another thank you, she wrapped her arms behind his neck and tip-toed for a kiss. As the man leaned down, Squint shot out an arm to grasp the helmet as it was about to fall off, giggling through their kiss as she held the hat onto her head with one hand whilst grasping Kamikaze with the other.


	43. Chapter 42: Ancestral Homeland

Chapter 42: Ancestral Homeland

The XCOM squad of mostly green operatives had returned to base from an operation in Edmonton. Earth's finest had successfully put a stop to the alien abduction and were enjoying their night off after the heroics of the day. Orgun was in his familiar role, slinging drinks for the rest of the operatives behind the counter while Burncycle, Gamage, Doubleumc, Jive and Morgan listened intently to the tall tales of Van Doorn.

"It's not OFFICIALLY called Doorn City, but honestly, no one remembers the other name anymore", the gunner explained in his trademark manner, on the edge of boasting but still coming off amiable and down-to-earth.

Morgan lifted an inquisitive eyebrow as she regarded the older man next to her. "Why the hell is it called Doorn City anyway?" she questioned, grabbing the refilled pint Orgun was offering her.

Van Doorn laughed silently with his eyes, surveying the people around him as he got ready to continue the fable. The man was an endless well of stories and enigmatic, quirky proverbs. "The Doorn family line stretches back to ancient times, my fellow operatives! Well, ancient times of the US anyway. We've been living in Doorn City long before our country became independent, and some people around even think we should be our own state!"

"So why are you the favorite son then?" Burncycle asked, the strange tale of the strange man having piqued his interest. Van Doorn wheeled around to smile at the man as he recounted his tale.

"It all started when I was just a little rapscallion on the streets of Doorn City. We rolled the main street on our bicycles, me and my buddies. I don't mean to brag, but I was the biggest and strongest of us all, and let me tell you sonny, the sons of Doorn City love to tussle and wrestle. Oh how we do", a reminiscent smile rose to the Doorn's lips as he stared off into the distance. Returning from his inner recollection, he kept on going.

"Mothers and fathers seemed to take a liking to me, I don't really know why. All I did was help around with menial chores, I mean that's what neighbors are for, right? As I grew older daughters and, ooh boy let me tell you, even mothers took to fancying the particular son of Doorn City before your very eyes, oh yes they did!" The man let out a bellowing laugh as he slammed his hand down on the counter, causing the other operatives to exchange glances of amusement and disbelief, left with no choice but to join the charismatic man in his laughter.

"I may have wooed a sally or two in my wilder years before finally settling on my one and only. As the son of Doorn City left to join the army, his legend lived on amongst his kinsmen. And that, Burncycle, is why I'm called the favorite son of Doorn City. Not a name I took for myself, but one that I will always carry with pride", the man concluded with a smile, drawing chuckles and laughs from the other operatives and an _aaaaww_ from the gently smiling Gamage at the end of the counter.

"Favorite son of Incest City, huh? How many toes you got under those boots?" Orgun ribbed the man friendly while pouring a pint for himself. Van Doorn squinted his eyes in feigned malice at the rocketeer, clicking his tongue disapprovingly.

"The Van Doorn's of Doorn City go back generation after generation, sonny. We keep good track of our blood lines and I assure you no Doorn mingles with another Doorn inappropriately!" The bizarre response had the people at the counter filling the air with laughter once again as Orgun conceded his defeat with a gracious spread of his arms.

Doubleumc scratched at the mole on the side of her nose, raising her voice in a question, "You said your one and only? I take it you have family back home in this Doorn City of yours, then?"

Van Doorn smiled at the thought, letting out a small sigh and taking a sip from his beer. "Yeah, I do. My beautiful wife and kids. Son and daughter, almost all grown up now. Though they'll always be the size of teeny fire extinguishers to me!" Turning to regard the medic, Van Doorn continued, "And no, we haven't been to our ancestral homelands in quite some time, unfortunately. They live up in DC."

Before someone else had the time to respond, Doubleumc kept on going, "Wife and two kids, huh. Well I thought I always took you for a family man, big man Doorn. Does make me wonder what they thought of your new career in the xeno-slaying business, though. Can't imagine they'd take too kindly to it. I mean, not that I'd care as a woman but you know, I'm a soldier, right?"

She barely stopped to draw breath as her mouth flapped on, but just as there was the slightest of pauses in her speech, Van Doorn stepped deftly in with his response, "Oh they understand, believe you me daughter. I've been a soldier since the days I serenaded my wife and my family knows what to expect. It's just another stint with another outfit. Except this time it's to fight the alien menace of course! How could they not love that? The Doorn family is nothing if not patriotic, and as much as we love our country, we love this Earth even more!"

The man's words drew cheers from the rest of the operatives. "Damn right old man!" Orgun yelled from behind the counter, toasting the man's impromptu speech. Van Doorn responded with a raised pint of his own as glass clinked on glass all along the counter.


	44. Chapter 43: Friendly fire

Chapter 43: Friendly fire

Awo wore a look of determination as he led the squad of XCOM operatives out of the SWAT van. The squad was wearing SWAT vests and helmets both for protection and disguise, though the laser weapons in their hands would certainly raise suspicion if spotted by the public. If it came to that the Council would deal with it, as they always did when it came to concealing XCOM's activities against EXALT.

The lieutenant led his squad across the large parking hall. Smaller teams of Council's agents and operatives in combat gear filled the gray concrete area, along with several SWAT vehicles and agents' cars. Some of the personnel looked on curiously as Renzol, Hypergeek, Wolfer, Awo, Cell, Daishi and Iku marched across the hall. At the end of the open space, special operative Kilroy was going over the plans with her second-in-command on the field, looking up with a grin and a waved hand as her comrades drew closer.

"Well I'll be damned! It's like being back on the HRT, except this time you're the Ninjas and I'm the big shot agent!" The grin reached wide and all the way up to her eyes as Kilroy regarded the people approaching her. She was wearing a tactical vest over her civilian clothes and her brown hair was pulled into a tight ponytail. The laser pistol was openly displayed on her hip instead of a concealed holster as she was ready to lead the charge against EXALT.

Awo chuckled as his squad reached Kilroy. Grabbing Kilroy's hand in his, the lieutenant slammed a friendly hand on her back in the briefest of embraces. "I'm gonna be honest: did not expect to be doing this again after we fired our first shots against E.T." the former police officer proclaimed, pulling away from Kilroy. Regarding the woman with approving eyes, he continued, "You look like you were born for this, Kilroy. What's the plan?"

Kilroy led the squad to a nearby car where a map was spread out over the hood. The EXALT cell in the area was holed up inside a warehouse in a nearby district and despite their best attempts, the intelligence agencies of XCOM and the Council had failed to find a way in. However, cloak and daggers wasn't the only way one can play this game, and Kilroy had had her plan for breaching and eliminating the cell approved by the paramilitary organization's high command. Going over the plan for taking the building, Kilroy briefed her fellow operatives on the task at hand.

By the end of it, Awo was nodding approvingly. "Everyone got that?" he queried, looking over his squad. Renzol nodded, her face grave as she was ready for her first engagement with the domestic threat. Hypergeek looked almost dismissive as he gestured his acknowledgment, the man a veteran of many engagements against EXALT already. Iku stared at the map with a frown, fidgeting a little with his laser sniper rifle. Muttering his understanding, the man appeared as distant as ever from the rest of the group. Cell and Daishi glanced at each other, the tall women signaling their readiness with a slap of gloved hands.

And finally, there was Wolfer. Awo almost jumped at the sight as the man stared at the map with furious eyes. The huge man was breathing heavily, almost like he was trying to restrain himself. "You okay there, Wolfer?" Awo queried in a worried tone. It seemed like the big man might jump at the car right then and there, hammering his fists through the metal of the hood.

The words of the squad leader brought Wolfer back and he glanced at Awo, most of the edge disappearing from his eyes. In an almost bashful manner, the assault muttered under his breath, "Sorry, could you go over that again?" Kilroy nodded and restarted the briefing without a hint of her usual mockery. Better to recount than have someone forget the plan and compromise the operation.

With the briefing done, Kilroy turned to the rest of the parking hall with a commanding shout, "Okay, we're on people! Everyone play your part and we'll kick these fuckers right outta Chicago!" Cheers and acknowledgments filled the hall as the operatives turned to their vehicles. Kilroy wheeled around and led her people into their designated SWAT vans while Iku left the squad, headed for the vehicle which would take him to the rooftops with the rest of the operation's snipers.

The armored vehicles took to the streets as the operation kicked off. Law enforcement forces would be closing off the roads leading into the area, hopefully minimizing civilian traffic. This was no ordinary goon stake-out: if they cut off the area too early, EXALT would no doubt be spooked. There would be absolutely no messing around with the terrorist organization; there were already sightings of EXALT-engineered laser weaponry on the field and the element of surprise would be crucial in pulling off the assault.

Renzol, Wolfer, Cell and Kilroy bumped up and down in their ride as they approached the destination. Awo would be leading the assault from the side with Hypergeek and Daishi while Kilroy would take her squad through the front doors. The Council's troops would be securing the back of the building and cutting off any EXALT operatives who might attempt to escape while Iku and the rest of the snipers covered from the buildings across the street.

The SWAT van turned the last corner with screeching tires as the warehouse came to view. The armored vehicle mowed down the chain-link fence surrounding the complex, causing the operatives inside to jerk about. "Come on, get ready!" Kilroy yelled as she pulled her laser pistol from its holster. Bracing herself against her seat, she bit her teeth together.

The vehicle slammed into the double doors of the warehouse, crashing inside in an explosion of concrete dust and splintered doors. The back doors of the vehicle swung open as the operatives dashed out into the open area. Catwalks ran along the sides of the warehouse and long shelves of stacked crates created narrow corridors into the middle. Long windows running along the upper side of the building cast sunlight inside in addition to the light from the fluorescent lamps hanging from the ceiling of the hall.

A bright red beam of energy sliced into the warehouse through one of the windows, striking down a surprised EXALT operative on the catwalks. Frantic shouts rang in the air as the terrorists scrambled to organize in front of the attack. Wolfer was the first out of the SWAT van, running towards the lines of crates on the left, with Kilroy and Renzol following closely behind.

Cell had climbed up to the mounted autolaser at the top of the APC and was hosing suppressive fire at the enemy. Focusing on the ground level, she pinned down EXALT operatives behind the lines of crates as Wolfer moved aggressively in the vanguard, dropping enemies with his scatter laser one after the other.

The bright explosion of a flashbang from the catwalks to their right signaled Awo's arrival into the fight. Daishi dashed out into the catwalk, ducking under a barrage of gunfire from one of the EXALT's on the opposite side of the warehouse. The scout ran along the catwalk, drawing fire while Awo and Hypergeek emerged from behind her. Walking into the spacious hall, the lieutenant dropped the enemy firing at Daishi with a precise laser shot. Signaling for Hypergeek to move up, the infantryman covered his operatives as they made their way into the back of the second level of the hall. There, a small office box was located where the catwalks from either side of the warehouse united.

Glass rained into the hall as the sniper fire led by Iku continued to descend upon the hapless EXALT. Those who took cover from the snipers and Cell's autolaser were culled off by Wolfer or flanked from up high by Daishi, Hypergeek and Awo. The battle was set to be short and brutal. That is, until the elites showed up.

Daishi and Hypergeek were bracing against the door to the small office, ready to breach. Renzol watched on from her position behind the crates close to her SWAT van. Glancing up to her left, she saw movement on the upper walkway as a door to one of the stairwells swung open. She had barely fired a shot thus far and as she raised her shatterray, she realized this was no ordinary enemy. Shouting her warning into the air, Renzol pulled back into cover and slung the rocket launcher from her back.

Instead of stepping out into the catwalks to be sniper prey, the two EXALT operatives braced themselves on both sides of the door. Red beams cut through the warehouse as they fired their laser weapons at Cell, the gunner responding just in time thanks to Renzol's warning, ducking inside the SWAT van as the enemy's weapons left scorch marks on the top. Awo was the next target as he was forced back out the doorway he had come from, ducking under the lasers as he scrambled back outside.

Renzol stepped out of cover, rocket launcher steadied on her shoulder. Both eyes wide open she took aim and pulled the ignition. Just as she let the rocket fly, a panicked thought crossed her mind: where the hell was Wolfer?

The rocket veered into the edge of the catwalk, leaving a trail of smoke behind it. The explosion shook the metal walkway, shrapnel flying in the air as the EXALT operatives ducked into cover. A surprised yell emerged from between the crates below as the catwalk collapsed, bringing down some of the walls with it, toppling over crates and shelves into a mess of debris on the ground.

With her heart in her throat, Renzol swung the launcher to her back and crossed over with her shatterray at the ready. Daishi and Hypergeek burst through the office and to the edge of the collapsed catwalk. A reverse-engineered alien grenade flew through the air, finishing what Renzol had started as the wall covering the two EXALT operatives went up in an explosion of pure green energy. Cell's autolaser spun up at the SWAT van as she mowed down one of the enemies and Daishi's scatter laser flared, putting an end to the battle.

Daishi vaulted down from the catwalk, landing gracefully on the edge of the pile of debris. Renzol looked on with rising dread as the scout looked around in the pile of rubble, the dust from the explosion yet to settle. "I found him!" Daishi yelled as she pulled a bent sheet of metal free from the pile, revealing a bloodied Wolfer below. The big assault was grimacing in pain, a piece of debris sticking out of the SWAT helmet on his head.

Cursing loudly, the man struggled against the pile of debris as Daishi helped dig him out. Finally free of his premature burial, he grabbed onto Daishi's outstretched hands and clambered out, holding onto the tall woman for support. Daishi helped steady him with both arms around him, a worried look on her face as she inquired if he was alright.

Wolfer glanced up from the scout, straight at Renzol. His eyes were on fire, blood trickling down from his nose and from under the helmet. Clenching his teeth together, the man left Daishi as he limped around the devastation caused by Renzol's rocket. The rest of the operatives had made their way into the warehouse by now and Awo looked on doubtfully from the catwalk as Wolfer approached the small rocketeer, Daishi's attempts to calm the man down falling on deaf ears.

"What the fuck, Renzol?" the assault yelled as he approached the woman. The man was absolutely furious, and a horrific sight at that. Bruised and battered, he looked like he shouldn't have been able to stand up, let alone move. The other operatives had never seen Wolfer like this, and Awo began to worry he might do something he would regret later. Yelling for the assault to stand down, the lieutenant looked frantically for a way down.

"I said, WHAT THE FUCK?" Wolfer leaned over the small woman, gritting his teeth together as he stared her down. His nostrils flared open as he breathed heavily, clenching his hands into massive fists. Renzol was staring down at the ground, unblinking, her mouth a tight white line. Taking a stuttering breath, she didn't answer.

Wolfer grabbed Renzol by her shoulder, opening his mouth once again, ready to let the small rocketeer know her place. With a wild scream, Renzol brought her leg up, catching the big man squarely in his groin. With a muffled groan, Wolfer lost the grip on her shoulder as he collapsed into the ground, gasping for air. Renzol wheeled around and stormed out of the warehouse, her face emotionless.

Daishi laid a hand down on Wolfer's shoulder as the man struggled for air. "What the fucking hell was that? Fucking crazy bitch, somebody put a leash on that!" Daishi frowned as she knelt next to Wolfer, trying to calm the man down for the paramedics that would soon be with them. Looking up to see Awo closing in, Wolfer raised his voice once more, "You! Mister fucking squad leader! Control your fucking operatives!"

Awo frowned at the man, a sharp anger flaring up inside him. "Control? And what the fuck do you think you were doing there, Wolfer? You fucking piece of shit when I tell you to stand down, you will STAND DOWN do you understand me sergeant?" Awo's tone and expression were furious; he'd had enough with people overriding his authority and belittling him. It was enough he had to deal with it every day with Merlin, he would not have an idiot like Wolfer ignoring his orders.

The assault responded with a cold stare, finally giving in with a diverted gaze and a muttered acknowledgment. Awo looked up, glancing around the warehouse. "Where the hell did Renzol go?" he queried, his patience at its utmost limit.

Daishi looked at her squad leader with a grave expression. "Operative Kilroy went after her, sir", the scout responded matter-of-factly, causing Awo to glance at her and respond with a curt nod. Walking off the scene, Awo signaled for the approaching Council's clean-up crew and paramedics to get to work.

* * *

Outside, Renzol was staring into the empty street. The ran-over chain-link fence lay under her feet as she brewed in the aftermath of the encounter. She was somewhat shocked to notice she wasn't even that shaken over the fact she had delivered some grade-A bullshit friendly fire on Wolfer, gravely injuring and potentially killing the man. Rather, she was furious and disappointed at herself for making such a grave mistake. The first rule of rockets fired of your own decree: make sure you have knowledge of your entire squad's position.

Approaching footsteps signaled a conflict she had no interest in partaking right now. Drawing in a deep breath, Renzol braced herself. "Renzol? What the hell was that?" the worried and flabbergasted query from Kilroy rung in her ears as the special operative came to a halt next to her. Renzol took in another breath, staring off into the distance.

"For fuck's sake, he was wounded Renzol! I agree he's a fucking asshole but you can't just kick your injured comrades in the nads!" the woman kept going, staring at Renzol with an incredulous look on her face. Not getting a response, she stepped in front of the small rocketeer, forcing her to make eye contact.

Renzol drew in a third breath, this time meeting Kilroy's eyes. "I know, Kilroy. I know, okay?" she managed to respond, chills running down her sides as the muddled emotions splashed about inside of her. Kilroy regarded her with worried eyes, opening her mouth in response, only to be cut off by Renzol. "I know. Just leave me alone, okay?"

Kilroy gave her one last sideways glance before taking off back towards the warehouse. Renzol closed her eyes as she took in another deep breath, lifting her face towards the sunlight. Her knees were wobbling under her, but she was still standing. In the midst of the bustling scene, she visualized the Box as her emotions threatened to overwhelm her.

_You can overcome this. You are stronger than this. You are strong,_ the thoughts rang in her mind as she struggled to pour everything into the Box, struggled to purge herself of her emotions. Her heart was beating fast and she felt like she was shaking all over, even though her body was near motionless.

Little by little, the stress receded. It was far from gone, but at least Renzol felt like she was the master of her own mind again. Letting out a shaky breath she turned around, ready to confront her squad and begin the long road back to HQ. A long road in an enclosed space with the no doubt pissed off Wolfer.


	45. Chapter 44: From Argentina with love

Chapter 44: From Argentina with love

Scubaman let out a massive yawn, stretching out on his bunk. The beeping of the alarm clock on the night stand next to him stopped as the Latino reached out a hand, another yawn following as he got up to a sitting position on the edge of his bed, clad only in his green military boxers.

He had come to appreciate the solitude of his officer's quarters a little more, even though he still would have preferred waking up in his old room with Orgun and co. Rubbing his eyes sleepily the lieutenant got up, grabbing the fresh tank top he had thrown over the back of his chair and pulled it over his head. Striding over to the closet, he took the small bag containing his personal hygiene items and walked out of the room.

The bathroom was located at the end of the corridor, past Awo's and Medve's quarters. Scubaman walked past the doors and into the bathroom, glancing around the room. Four sinks lined the wall opposite the entrance, with showers to one side and toilet stalls and urinals to the other of the white-tiled room. Turning the faucet, Scubaman splashed his face with a healthy dose of cold water, grunting slightly as the tingling sensation on his skin brought his senses back on full alert.

Shaking the excess water off, he dug the electric toothbrush from his bag. Going through the morning's routine, the shaving foam and safety razor followed as Scubaman scrubbed his chin clean. Examining the result in the mirror the man grinned, running a hand over his buzz cut hair. Giving himself a wink, Scubaman gathered his belongings and started back towards his quarters, making a quick pit stop by the urinal.

Tossing the bag of personal items into the closet, Scubaman pulled on a pair of XCOM's field pants, followed by socks and combat boots. Grabbing his dog tags from the small writing desk and flinging them around his neck, he got back out into the corridor and headed for the small officers' lounge opposite their quarters.

The door was slightly ajar and Scubaman pushed inside with a jolly greeting, "Good morning boys! Isn't it just another wonderful day in our merry little xeno-scum slaying outfit?" Medve glanced up from the table, the morning's paper folded in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

"Morning, Scuba", the big gunner responded with a smile, returning his attention to the paper. Scubaman looked around the room but saw no sign of Awo. Striding over to the kitchen side where the worktop and cupboards were located at, he pulled open the fridge.

The officers still ate regular meals like lunch and dinner at the cafeteria, but they did have access to their own personal breakfast. Grabbing the necessities for a couple of sandwiches, Scubaman took his haul over to the worktop and started throwing together his meal. "Where's Awo?" the Latino inquired from his work, really more for the sake of small talk than actual curiosity as to where his fellow infantryman might be at.

"No idea", came the response from Medve. The big man looked up from his paper with a frown, staring off into the distance. "Now that I think about it, I haven't really seen him that much lately", he continued, turning his gaze to Scubaman as the Argentinian sat down on the other side of the table with his stack of sandwiches.

Scubaman gave a small shrug as he dug into the first piece of bread. Munching away at the food, he spoke with a full mouth, "He's probably just stressed out. You know how he is." Medve shook his head at the Latino's lack of manners, turning his attention back to the newspaper.

Finishing his breakfast, Scubaman stood up and walked over to the coffee maker. "You mind if I take this?" he asked, already pouring the coffee into his mug. Medve muttered his approval without looking up. Scubaman grinned at the situation, laughing silently inside as he quickly downed the coffee. Black and lukewarm, just as he liked it.

Tossing the mug on the worktop, he got ready to leave the break room. Stopping by the door, he turned back towards Medve, "I'll come up with something to cheer him up. You in on it?" The gunner uttered his agreement from the table and Scubaman strode out of the room, putting the issue with Awo on the back burner as he got ready to tackle today's case.

Drake had been discharged from the medbay a couple of days ago, and Stoli had followed yesterday. The operation in Fortaleza had almost proven to be fateful for both of them, but it was all in the past now: a battle among others. Scubaman had sworn to himself he would cheer the German engineer up, one way or the other. Grinning widely he got on with the day's work and training, his eyes already set on the evening.

It was an uneventful day. Scubaman was on duty, but no word of alien activity arrived. Morning turned to noon and noon to afternoon, and finally the last of the day's drills signaled the beginning of the anticipated evening. Taking a quick shower Scubaman hurried over to his quarters, grabbing the plastic bag containing his necessary gear. Tittering to himself, he started towards Stoli's room.

Both Orgun and Morgan had agreed to help the man with his schemes, laughing incredulously as he had explained his intentions. They would have to hold up the people from Stoli's room as they were returning from the day's training. With the plan set in motion, Scubaman slunk his way over to Stoli's room. Closing the door behind him, he walked up to the woman's bunk. Thankfully she had the backmost lower bunk; perfect for the occasion.

Stripping down to his stylish civilian boxers, Scubaman chuckled to himself. Reaching into the plastic bag, he produced a bow tie and a red rose. Wrapping the tie around his neck he got on Stoli's bed, clenching the rose between his teeth while suppressing the laugh that desperately tried to bubble out of him. Trying out several seductive poses he settled on lying on his side with one leg propped up, leaning against an elbow.

The wait wasn't long, but it was long enough to get him wondering. If Orgun would follow up on his threat to hold up Stoli and instead goad Wolfer into paying his room a visit from the medbay, he would be in for one hell of a ride. Suppressing another laughing fit, Scubaman calmed his mind. And not long after, the door creaked open.

Stoli stepped into the room, fresh from her shower. Her blond locks streamed over her shoulders from below the towel as she was drying her hair. She was wearing comfortable sweat pants and a tank top, oblivious to the surprise waiting for her. Walking across the room, she quietly hummed a song to herself. Stopping at her closet, she put her bathing gear away and hung the towel by the open door. Turning towards her bed, she froze halfway through the second step.

Scubaman had managed to calm down, as he always did. His eyes were sparkling with promises of passion and playfulness, his sculpted body resting on the white sheets. He was clad only in sleek black boxers and a bow tie, the bright red petals of the rose held between his teeth a splash of color in the ascetic room. Stoli ran her eyes over the sight, finally meeting Scubaman's gaze. Unfreezing herself, she strode over to the man, an involuntary smirk rising to her lips as she raised a curious eyebrow.

"Mhmmm, what's this? I don't remember leaving this here", she spoke mischievously, running a hand over Scubaman's chest. Tracing her way down over his abs, she teasingly let her fingers linger on the waistband of his boxers. Scubaman's eyes widened as Stoli licked her lips ever so slightly, sliding her fingers over the fabric. Reaching downwards, she gently grabbed the bulge in his boxers. Giving him the slightest of squeezes she pulled her hand away, leaving the front of the boxers suspiciously expanding.

"Get the hell outta my bed, Scuba", she spoke in a voice bubbling with laughter. Scubaman complied, jumping up and sprinting past her, grabbing the plastic bag containing his clothes with him. Running out into the corridor, he grinned at the flabbergasted operatives returning to their rooms. Winking at Gamage and Amineri as he sprung past them, Scubaman was about to burst with laughter. The rose was still clenched between his teeth, holding it all inside. Seeing Wolfer limp around the corner, Scubaman danced over to the other side of the corridor as he flew past the big assault, a puzzled curse following the jollily loping officer as he escaped the quarters of rank and file.

* * *

"Man, I can't believe you actually did that", Orgun laughed, regarding the contently smiling Scubaman. The Latino was lying down in his old upper bunk in their room; he had managed to keep it free after all even with all of the new recruits coming in. Morgan chuckled from her place at Frag's old bed. The carefree woman had fit in just fine with Orgun and Scubaman, turning the dynamic duo into the terrific trio. Squint was nowhere to be seen, no doubt spending her free time with Kamikaze. Cell was off training with Renzol and JBowles had disappeared into the TV room to catch his show.

Morgan rolled over to her side, looking up at Scubaman. "What'd you have done if she'd gone for it?" the assault asked, her eyes and voice glimmering with laughter. A smug grin rose to the Latino's lips as he continued to stare into the ceiling.

"What do you think, my little Morgunner? I thought you'd know by now that _el Zorro_ never kids when it comes to love and the act of love." Turning to face the woman's amused stare, Scubaman gave a small, almost bashful shrug before continuing, "To be fair, I didn't expect her to go that far. Though I'm ready for whatever comes of it, believe me. She'll fall for my charms sooner or later!"

Orgun spoke up from the end of their bunk bed where he was leaning against the railing, "Man, I don't think she's able to look you in the eye without laughing anymore. Makes your sexual endeavors a little hard, don't you think?"

Scubaman smiled confidently, getting up to look at his friend. "Laughter is love's little sister, did you not know that my sweet Kong?" Orgun raised an unamused eyebrow at the ill-fitting nickname. It was the result of one extremely drunken night when the two jokesters had taken it upon themselves to come up with the most unlikely of names for each other. As it turned out, Scubaman absolutely loved the moniker Ding Dong that Orgun had christened him with, leaving the Irishman alone in his misery at the name Kong. Thankfully, it had not stuck with most of the people in the outfit.

Scubaman re-positioned his pillow against the wall, settling back down more comfortably. Looking from Orgun to Morgan, his eyes sparkled with mischievous laughter. "So for the next attempt, I heard about this move called the naked man…"


	46. Chapter 45: Shotsy

Chapter 45: Shotsy

Drake lounged in the middle of the small clearing amidst the coniferous forest. The reek of the thin man's acid was still strong on her flak jacket, but it didn't bother her in the slightest. It was only her third mission after Frag's last operation all those months ago, and both of the previous ones had ended in misery for her. Taking a deep breath of fresh forest air tainted with the pungent odor of acid, Drake felt more alive than ever.

A smile rose to her lips as she bathed in the sunlight shining down on the clearing. The rest of the operatives were off to the side of the open area or at the nearby UFO, waiting for the recovery squad. Even though Drake was hardly one to doubt herself, she had to admit she had been nervous before the operation. The long months spent in the medbay combined with the heartache of her previous missions would have been enough to strike anybody down, so it was to be expected. But the nervousness and doubt had disappeared once the battle had started.

Just like any other fight, she had been in the vanguard as the assault of the squad should. She had not shied away from putting herself out there, ready to take one for the team. Even though she was trailing well behind Kilroy and Renzol on total kills, her missions-to-kills ratio was still unrivaled. Not that Drake really cared about any of that. Giving it her everything and sacrificing herself for the cause was something she had always done on the battlefield. Taking hits and delivering hits; she wouldn't have it any other way.

Turning back towards the rest of the squad, Drake joined Kamikaze and Squint who were sitting on an overturned log at the edge of the clearing. Vherid was resting against a tree some distance from them while Awo was consulting with central over his headset. The distant voice of Doubleumc carried over from the direction of the UFO as the medic kept company to AlexD, the South African recruit who was serving on his first operation.

Drake smiled as she approached the couple. Squint was fussing over the hit Kamikaze had taken during the operation, even though it had only grazed over his armor. "Look at you, this is what happens when you give me your lucky helmet! Are you sure it's alright? You should let Doubleumc take another look at that. Don't you fidget with me, mister!"

Kamikaze was trying to get away from the woman's roaming hands as she examined the burn. Glancing over at Awo, the man whispered at Squint, "Come on Squint, stop that. You're making me look bad in front of Awo!" The officer was focused on his headset but seemed to take notice of the exchange anyway. The lieutenant grinned and muttered something under his breath as he turned away, shaking his head.

"Hey, pipsqueak", Drake greeted cheerfully, giving Squint's worn helmet a tussle. The small scout turned her attention from Kamikaze to Drake, smiling at the assault from under the rim of the large helmet. Sitting down next to her, Drake stretched her legs out as she enjoyed the feeling of sunlight on her face. "You were leaving for R&amp;R tomorrow, right? Who was it with again?" Drake inquired, picking up the small talk.

Squint followed her senior's lead, stretching out her legs and leaving Kamikaze alone for the time being. "Morgan and Petete. I'm kinda excited about it, actually. It's a great chance to make some new friends", the cheerful woman answered, the thought of a night out on the town only slightly marred by the fact she wouldn't get to go with Kamikaze. But during war, you have to take what you can get.

Turning to Drake, a shy little smile spread across Squint's lips. "I'm glad the op went well for you, Shotsy", she muttered. Drake responded with a laugh and wrapped an arm around Squint's shoulders.

The nickname hadn't really stuck with her from the early days of the conflict. She had taped the word Shotsy on her trusted ballistic shotgun and Kilroy had tried to make it a thing by teasing her with the name. However, during her latest stint in the medbay, Kilroy had come across Drake's old shotgun one day during training.

She had requested Orgun to bring her the needed materials from Nagoya during his day off and with some help from their resident tinkerer Petete, they had put together an assault teddy bear for Drake. It had a little beanie with ski goggles and both a ballistic shotgun and a scatter laser in hands with the name Shotsy embroidered across its fuzzy kevlar vest. It had sat on Drake's bedside watchfully throughout her recuperation and even though Drake hadn't admitted it to anyone, Shotsy had also found its way to her embrace during the long, lonely nights.

"I told you, it's the bear's name, not mine!" she playfully reprimanded Squint who continued to smile shyly under her arm. For all of the care and attention Drake had gotten from Kilroy, it felt good to be the big sister for once. Squint had become somewhat of a mascot for the women of XCOM and being around her always cheered Drake up.

Squint looked up at her, reaching out a hand to grasp Kamikaze's in her own. "Kilroy really means a lot to you, doesn't she?" the small woman asked Drake, causing the playfulness to disappear from the assault. Taking a deep breath, Drake gave Squint's shoulder a gentle pat.

"Yeah. She's like the sister I never had", Drake responded solemnly, the question taking her back to her own family. She had lost her father when she was very young and they had still lived in India. His death had prompted their move into the US where her mother had brought up Drake on her own. She had been a sickly woman and had passed away during Drake's second year with the army.

Even though the loss of her mother had been painful, it hadn't killed Drake's positive outlook on life. She had gone through a lot in life, but there was always hope for tomorrow. Even during times like this, when the fate of mankind hung in the balance, she had managed to maintain that outlook on life.

Returning from her thoughts, Drake smiled at Squint and gave her a small hug before getting up. "It's the same with all of you. You're the only family I need", she spoke cheerfully, causing a puzzled look to appear in Squint's eyes. Letting out a small laugh, Drake patted the small woman on her helmet once more. "Don't worry about it, pipsqueak. I'm gonna go save AlexD from the endless Pabulum", she told Squint as she took off, headed towards the forest and the landed alien craft behind the screen of spruces and pine trees.


	47. Chapter 46: The Secret

Chapter 46: The Secret

"Come on, push! Fucking push, you Salty bitch!" Cell's rough encouragement rang around the empty gym as Renzol struggled under the weight of the barbell. Rough grunts escaped the small rocketeer's throat as her face twisted with effort. Cell was leaning over the bar, urging her on.

"Just think of Wolfer! You wanna punch his fucking face in, I know you do. Now do it, fucking PUSH!" Seeing Renzol give it the last shreds she had in her, Cell gently touched her little finger to the underside of the bar. Like magic, the barbell lifted all the way up as Renzol groaned in accomplishment and frustration.

Grabbing the bar, Cell helped her friend guide it to its resting place. "Nice one! That's a new record for you!" the gunner complimented the effort Renzol had put in. Struggling to a sitting position, Renzol cussed in German as she slammed a hand against the bench.

"I couldn't do it", she muttered while throwing a leg over the bench, turning sideways to her friend. Her blonde, short hair hung over her temples in sweaty locks as she caught her breath.

Cell laughed heartily, shaking her head at the woman in front of her. "I barely helped. That was all you. And besides, even if you don't count the last one you still beat your old record by two repeats!" she observed in amusement. Even though she had gotten used to Renzol's mannerisms, the way she pushed herself in training still caught her off guard sometimes. It was like nothing she accomplished was ever good enough.

Renzol gave the tall woman a sideways stare. With her breathing steadying, a glimmer of humor appeared into her eyes. "You wanna punch his fucking face in?" she repeated Cell's words, breaking into laughter at the absurd encouragement the gunner had delivered her.

Joining Renzol's laughter with a small chuckle, Cell pushed a few strands of black hair behind her ear as her tight ponytail struggled to come loose. "Well, I know I wanna do that sometimes. I imagine you're the same", she muttered with a grin.

Their extra gym sessions had become part of Cell's daily routine. With her help as a spotter and the guidance in training schedule she had offered for Renzol, the small rocketeer had been able to overcome her slump in bench pressing. They had expanded the extra training to other areas as well and the evenings spent at the gym had become a pleasant pastime for the both of them.

Taking her end of the barbell, Cell began removing the weights. As Renzol got up to handle the other side, the gunner spoke her thoughts out loud, "It's really pretty damn impressive how much power you've got in that skinny body of yours." Renzol glanced up at her with a doubtful look.

"Thanks, I guess", she muttered at the praise. She was definitely pleased with the physical progress she had made over the past few months, even if she still had failed to gain mass in her arms. They were wiry and possessed more strength than it seemed but despite Renzol's best efforts, she hadn't been able to fill them out. Her back, shoulders and torso were in excellent condition along with her legs, and that's all that really mattered in the end. One doesn't carry around three rockets and a launcher with their biceps after all, and even firing the explosives required more strength in the neck and shoulder muscles rather than in the arms.

_It's not like I care about how they look anyway,_ Renzol thought somewhat wistfully to herself. She had long since accepted she would never be beautiful, but the newfound strength and courage had made her want to at least look the part. But if that's the way it would have to be then that's how it would be. At least she could take solace in knowing the strength was there, even if it wasn't obvious to other people.

Putting away the weights, the two women gathered their water bottles and towels as they headed for the showers. The silence between them bothered neither one as they had come to accept there was no need for idle small talk. With someone else Cell might have been uncomfortable in such silence, but not with Renzol. The rocketeer liked to keep to herself, and it had after all been Cell who had butted in on her private training sessions. What had begun as a tentative and wary friendship between them had quickly developed into quiet understanding. If Cell wanted to chat idly, she could go spend time with Scuba, Orgun, Kilroy and the rest of them or indulge in the simple games and TV shows that Wolfer among others liked to take part in.

It was the same for Renzol. She had been skeptical about the shared training at first, but Cell had proven to be tactful and a good instructor to boot, not forcing her methods upon Renzol. Today was the first time she had mentioned the friendly fire incident with Wolfer too, and even that had been little more than an indirect quip. Something that couldn't be said for everyone.

Renzol felt a twinge of shame at the memory. Daishi had confronted her in their room after the EXALT operation. She knew the scout had only tried to help, but Renzol had told her off so very harshly regardless. She was yet to apologize for it, and the whole thought of bringing it up now was starting to feel more and more uncomfortable and seemed unlikelier by the day.

_She was only trying to help,_ _but when did I ask for help? _Renzol thought to herself as she turned the shower off. Drying herself down, she bid Cell farewell as the gunner lingered in the showers. Opening her locker and pulling on the standard issue base clothing, Renzol left the sports section as she headed for her own room. Noticing how she was grateful Daishi was out on deployment, she felt an uneasiness come over her. It had become so easy to lock her own feelings in the Box, but it was a lot harder when someone else was involved. She would have to deal with this one way or the other.

With a deep sigh, Renzol pushed into her room. It was empty but for Vherid, immersed in one of his novels. The sniper muttered a greeting without taking his eyes off the paperback. Hypergeek was out fighting the alien threat with Daishi, but Renzol had no idea where Jive and DSM were. The thought of Jive made her look at the infantrywoman's bunk. It had been so long since Atlanton had last slept in that bunk, yet Renzol couldn't stop thinking of it as the cheerful Aussie's bed. Shaking her head at the sudden melancholy overtaking her, Renzol got down on her own bunk.

She hadn't thought about Atlanton in a long time. Of course she hadn't forgotten her, like she hadn't forgotten Frag or Foogleman, or anyone else who had died for that matter. But really thinking about them: what color were Atlanton's eyes? What was her favorite food? What was it that Frag had told her that day in the Skyranger? Wait, had he said anything? Hadn't he been silent? Foogleman that night at the martial arts room, wearing the tank top with LOCKDOWN embroidered across the front. Hawkeye looking at her squad leader earnestly as Renzol had led them out of the Skyranger.

The faces of her fallen comrades were still fresh in her mind. But how long would it take until she'd have forgotten those little memories she still treasured? She had poured everything she could from within into the Box; anything she saw as a weakness. But she would never hide away those memories of her fallen comrades. Those faces, they were the reason she had come to be who she was now. To not let it happen again; Renzol had not forgotten that promise she had given herself that drunken night after Frag's funeral. To lose sight of the people who had died, to sully the oath she had given herself. She wouldn't have it.

Rolling over in her bunk, Renzol took a minute to calm down. When she felt the bulk of the emotional winds pass by, she reached under her bed and pulled the heavy tome out. Grunting incredulously as her sore muscles failed to lift the book, she rolled over and grabbed it with both hands. Laying it against the end of the bed she propped her chin up by her pillow, diving into the pages of _War and Peace_ once again.

It was slow reading, but Renzol could appreciate that after the fantasy and sci-fi trash she had borrowed from Vherid. Some of the sniper's books were reasonable, some of them even good. But most of them were such superfluous garbage that Renzol felt she had read them all after reading only one of them.

The book got her thinking about Hunterhr. Renzol got along well with the quiet medic and they had shared a few talks about the book over breakfast and coffee, though she did always feel slightly uneasy in his presence. She wrote it off to that encounter in the TV room and how she had overreacted so horrendously. Shaking her head at the distracting thoughts once again, Renzol focused on the pages of the ancient book.

The words swam past Renzol's eyes as she struggled to pay attention to the story. First DSM and then Jive returned to the room as the evening turned to early night. Renzol was feeling unusually restless and had to re-read the pages multiple times as she realized she hadn't understood a word by the end of it. Eventually, she gave up with a sigh as she gently closed the book. Today's training had been a bit later than usual, so she blamed the restlessness on that. Getting up, Renzol left the room for a calming walk through the corridors.

The barracks was quiet, with most operatives already withdrawn into their rooms for the night. The TV room no doubt still had activity, but the sounds of drinking from the operatives' break room were notable in their absence. No one had the night off today, and the op squad dispatched to Argentina wasn't expected to return for another six hours or so. As Renzol walked past the break room, she could have easily missed the fact the door was ajar. But the clinking of glass on wood caused the small rocketeer to stop in her tracks.

_Someone's in there?_ Renzol thought curiously to herself, approaching the door. A sliver of orange light streaked into the corridor as she pushed the door slowly open, peeking into the familiar room.

Cell was sitting at the counter, smoke rising upwards from her cigar. A glass of bourbon sat in front of her as the woman stared at something in her hand. The gunner's face shocked Renzol; her eyes were red and forlorn, no doubt the result of a night of tears. Renzol hesitated for a moment, glancing both ways in the corridor. With a frown, she pushed into the room and closed the door behind her.

Cell startled at the counter, turning to look at Renzol. She slammed her hand on the counter, hiding whatever she'd been holding under her palm. Her expression was shaken as she watched Renzol approach the counter, the small rocketeer taking the bar stool next to her. Without speaking a word, Renzol leaned on the counter, staring at the stained mahogany surface.

She hardly needed to tell Cell she would get in trouble if caught drinking while not on base leave. Cell coughed uncomfortably as she cleared her throat, fidgeting around on her bar stool. Grabbing the bottle of bourbon on the counter, she was finally the first to break the silence, "You want a drink?" Her voice was quiet and weak, so completely unlike her. Renzol shook her head in response and the gunner re-filled her own glass, taking a long drink of the harsh liquor.

A moment passed as Cell drank her bourbon and smoked her cigar. Renzol sat quietly next to her friend, giving her time to gather herself. After the glass was drained, Renzol turned towards the woman next to her and raised her voice for the first time since entering the break room. "You want to talk about it?" she inquired, causing Cell to close her eyes as she leaned back on her stool, taking a stuttering breath.

"No. Yes. I don't know", the gunner answered, laying down her cigar on the ashtray and running a hand over her face. Her other hand was still on the counter where she had slammed it when Renzol had entered the room. Drawing in another labored breath, Cell lifted her hand and turned around the photograph.

The picture was old and slightly torn at the edges. A single crease ran across the front, splitting the face in half. It was the face of a cute some three-years-old girl, the smile on her lips displaying a pair of front teeth with a generous gap in-between. Renzol observed the sight quietly, moving her eyes from the picture to her friend.

Cell was gathering herself, eyes closed. Swallowing loudly, she finally opened her mouth, ready to share her secret after seven long years. "She's my daughter."

Her words hung in the air between them. Renzol waited, without a word. Cell held her face up towards the ceiling, eyes closed, looking for the words. Opening her eyes, she turned to look at the picture, unable to meet Renzol's eyes. Finally she continued, the words pouring out of her as the floodgates opened.

"I was such an idiot. Seventeen with a real asshole of a boyfriend. That loser ran right when he heard of it. But I guess I'm not much better." Swallowing once again, Cell took a shaky breath before continuing. "I was so mad at the world back then. Looking back on it, it was just teenage angst. So stupid. I gave birth to her, not that I wanted to. I held her those days in the hospital but right after my discharge, I wanted to give her away. My sister talked me out of it, promising to take care of her for a while."

Turning to look at Renzol, Cell let out a laugh of self-contempt. "For a while. Can you believe that? She promised to take care of her for a while, and what did I do? Leave the country and join the goddamn French Foreign Legion. I never returned to SA." Renzol could see the years of silent suffering in her friend's eyes as Cell turned back to regard the face in the photograph.

"I didn't even name her. My sister sent me this photo along with a letter three years after I'd left. I told her to never send me another picture. I almost tore this one in half, too." Running a finger across the crease, a lonely smile rose to Cell's lips. "It's the only picture I have of her. My sister kept sending me letters, though. It was just stuff between siblings, you know? But at the end, she always wrote something about little Jamball. I told myself I didn't care. I really, really believed I didn't care."

Putting a hand over her eyes, Cell's breathing turned ever shakier. A shudder ran over her as she continued, "Why now? I didn't… I didn't want to care. But what happened to South Africa… have you seen the floaters, Renzol? What do you think they do with the abductees?" The shudders turned into convulsions as Cell struggled to hold herself together.

"I just can't stop thinking about it… somewhere in SA, out of the sight of our watchful eyes… my flesh and blood." Leaning to her side, Cell laid her head on Renzol's shoulder. The small rocketeer wrapped an arm around her friend as the tears finally came, flooding out uncontrollably. Between inconsolable sobs, Cell sputtered on.

"Somewhere out there… my little girl. My baby girl."


	48. Chapter 47: Back at base

Chapter 47: Back at base

Author's note: I want to acknowledge huskinater in the youtube comments of episode 51 for the idea regarding Kungtotte's nickname and the letters from back home. Shamelessly ripped off and re-purposed for my own storytelling purposes : P (also horrible chapter name as always but I can't be arsed anymore, there's too many of them! :-D)

* * *

The deafening blaze of the Skyranger's jets filled the hangar bay as the aircraft descended onto its landing pad. With a flex of its suspension, the craft came to a halt as the ramp began to lower. Strike-1 was returning from another successful operation after assaulting a downed Raider-class UFO in the wilderness of Canada.

Petete pushed herself off the railing on the upper level as she lazily sauntered her way down the stairs. She was wearing a pair of dirty overalls over her base clothing, with an unkempt ponytail of dusty brown hair streaming from below her beanie. A pair of dark ski goggles hung around her neck as the Dutch engineer reached the landing pad along with the Skyranger's mechanics.

A very satisfied Hypergeek marched out of the Skyranger at the head of the squad. The tech sergeant engineer had a hand over the arc thrower hanging from his belt: another capture operation gone right, this time totaling a thin man captive and both of the UFO's outsiders. Seeing Petete approach the aircraft, a condescending smile found its way to the Belgian engineer's lips.

"_Salut,_ Petete. Here to fix the aircraft again? I won't get in the way of your _très important_ work", the man remarked smugly, giving the corporal a small pat on her shoulder on his way out. Petete's mellow, disinterested expression did not change one bit, as if she hadn't even acknowledged the gibe directed at her.

A snort of contempt emanated from the Skyranger as JBowles walked down the ramp with his rocket launcher slung over his shoulder. The man's well groomed hair was slicked up with gel, and on his face he wore a look of disgust as he looked at the receding back of Hypergeek. "Someone's getting too big for their pants", the rocketeer observed, shifting his eyes from Hypergeek to Petete.

Petete greeted the operatives streaming out of the Skyranger with a small nod. Scubaman strode up from behind JBowles, slamming a hand on the rocketeer's back. "Come on JB, no harm done. Does Maple look offended to you, huh?" the lieutenant commented with a smile, drawing a puzzled look from Petete. The engineer seemed completely oblivious as to what they were talking about as she headed towards the Skyranger and one of the mechanics kneeling next to the aircraft.

Getting down on her knees, Petete grabbed the tools she needed from the toolbox and got on the creeper. The mechanic groaned in frustration as the operative slid herself under the aircraft. "Come on, Pete. You know I'm not supposed to let you work on her!" the man complained, turning to look up at Scubaman. "Can't you order her to get out or something, Scuba? Please?"

Scubaman let out a heartfelt laugh as he grabbed JBowles by the shoulder, leading him away from the aircraft and the mechanic in distress, waving goodbye over his shoulder. The mechanic's pleas to Petete fell on deaf ears as the tomboy engineer kept working on the hydraulics of the aircraft.

Merlin was leaning against the railing on the upper level of the hangar bay. Greeting Scubaman and JBowles as they walked past, the woman smiled at Kungtotte as he began his ascent up the stairs. Waving a letter in the air, Merlin caused a wide smile to appear on the sniper's face. Reaching his roommate, Kungtotte grabbed Merlin into a friendly embrace, muttering a thank you as he reached for the letter.

"Time to dip into the cookie jar again, huh?" Merlin remarked happily as Kungtotte ran his fingers over the unopened letter. Kungtotte smiled at the infantrywoman, giving her shoulder a grateful squeeze. Letting his hand linger for a moment, he took off towards the arsenal with the rest of the squad.

Kungtotte had a wife and a daughter back home in the US. Despite the secretive nature of XCOM, mail was delivered twice a month to the HQ through the Council's agencies. The letters from his family were something Kungtotte looked forward to the most in his days, and he always enjoyed them the same way: laying down in his bunk with a Girl Scout's Thin Mint cookie. He had bought the jar from his daughter before leaving for the secret outfit, and the habit had earned him the nickname Thinmint from his fellow operatives. That and his ability to drop thin men with his sniper rifle.

Dropping off their gear in the arsenal, the operatives got into the locker room next door. Stripping off his armor, Instinct groaned as his flak jacket pressed against the plasma burn on his side. "You okay there, buddy?" Scubaman inquired from across the room. Observing the burn in his own armor, the lieutenant let out a sigh of relief that the shot he had taken hadn't penetrated the protective material.

"It's nothing. I'll be out of medbay in no time", the Nigerian assault muttered, throwing his flak jacket on the bench. Gingerly, he stripped off the rest of the equipment and stashed them in his locker.

Zim chuckled from her place at the end of the locker room, flexing her neck while tying her hair into a loose ponytail. "Too bad. You could've used a lengthy honeymoon with your boyfriend", the gunner commented sarcastically, earning a cold stare from Instinct.

Picking up from the snide remark, Daishi tried to put a positive spin on the conversation, "But hey, maybe it's not that bad. Get to spend some time with Wolfer… why haven't you been visiting him, by the way?"

The assault let out a deep sigh, getting down to work on the lacings of his combat boots. With a shake of his head, the stout man muttered in an annoyed tone, "I dunno what the hell is going on with him. I just can't be arsed to deal with his shit when he acts like a moody little kid. More so than normal, that is."

Instinct's concluding words caused Scubaman and JBowles to burst into laughter, much to the disapproval of Daishi. The scout frowned at the two men, struggling to find some words of encouragement for Instinct. Concluding there was nothing she could say, Daishi offered to walk him out to the medbay. Agreeing out of courtesy rather than any real need for help, Instinct set off with the tall woman.

The rest of the team followed, promising to meet for post-op drinks in two hours. JBowles was left alone in the locker room with Scubaman. Closing his locker, JBowles turned to the infantryman with a grin. "You feeling lucky, Scuba?" he jeered, drawing a dismissive snort out of Scubaman.

"I've told you a million times, JB! I'd win in a heartbeat, but I just like drinking!" the officer exclaimed happily as he stuffed away the remainder of his gear, following after the rest of the operatives with JBowles. The man Scubaman had endearingly titled the frat boy of XCOM sure loved his beer pong and as much as the infantryman tried to act nonchalant about it, JBowles' skills in that particular game were quite impressive indeed.

Leaving the locker room, the operatives spread out across the base, all into their own activities. It was another operation well done, and another night's rest well deserved as the alien threat had been pacified. For now.


	49. Chapter 48: Downpour

Chapter 48: Downpour

The winds were picking up, and the rooftop on the cloudy July afternoon was getting chillier by the minute. And it wasn't all due to the weather.

The man gripped his silenced sniper rifle with rising anxiety. Scanning through the scope, he saw people pass by in the streets below; hurrying towards their destinations to escape the inevitable downpour. The orders were clear: civilian casualties were acceptable. The man swallowed nervously, trying to ease the suspense within. His headset buzzed to life, relaying new information.

"_Target approaching your sector Echo-3. Eyes peeled, you're authorized to take the shot."_ The man closed his eyes for a moment, drawing in a deep breath. Steadying himself, he peered through the scope towards the crowd of civilians once again.

Seeing the target approach, the sniper brought his crosshair on point. He didn't have a clear shot as the target weaved her way through the crowd of people. She was a brunette female in her thirties, wearing a brown leather jacket with aviator sunglasses perched in her hair. There was no doubt about it; this was the one they called Sheriff.

Tracing her through his scope, the man waited for the opening. It came right when the target approached the end of his sector. The crowd of people parted and his crosshair locked in place, leading slightly in front of the steadily walking woman. Readying to pull the trigger, the man froze in place. Is this what he wanted to do with his life? Would this really wash away all the doubts in his mind?

As quickly as the moment had come, it passed. With relief, the sniper watched the woman disappear between the buildings as she moved on to the next sector. Letting out a trembling sigh, Echo-3 reported to his headset, "Target is gone, I did not have the shot. Repeat, target moving on to sector 4."

Listening to the response, the man closed his eyes as he let his shoulders relax. The respite was brief as the cold barrel of a silenced pistol exerted its pressure against the back of his head.

"Looking for someone?" a query came from behind him. It was the voice of an American female, with the slightest tint of the orient to it. A chill ran down the man's spine as he knew his end had come. Without thinking, he spoke the words.

"I had the shot. I didn't kill her." A brief moment of silence followed the words, seemingly stretching on for an eternity as Echo-3 waited for the bullet that would end his life. Would he realize the moment when it came? That brief millisecond between the lead leaving its chamber and burying itself in his brain, would he get to experience that? Or was he already as good as dead?

"Drop your rifle over the edge", a cold command rang in the air. With shaking hands, the man complied. The sniper rifle clattered over the concrete edge of the building, the barrel striking the wall as the rifle spun wildly on its way down. "Your pistol too", the voice spoke from behind him, and Echo-3 didn't hesitate. Pulling the weapon out of its holster with his index finger and thumb, the man tossed it over the edge, holding his breath.

The barrel lifted from his head, followed by a blow to his temple. Echo-3's vision darkened as he fell to the hard concrete of the roof, gasping for air. Rolling over to his back, the sounds of receding footsteps and incessant ringing filled his ears. Stars danced in his eyes as he tried to focus on the sky above. Rolling his head to the side, he glimpsed the back of the woman: a kevlar vest, dark ponytail and the nape of her neck, the color of sweet, sweet caramel.

Groaning in pain and nausea, Echo-3 turned his eyes back towards the sky. The clouds were dark and heavy with rain, and he was quietly grateful for the absence of sunlight. As moments passed, the stars disappeared from his vision and he felt his stomach settle. Feeling he could stand without throwing up, the man gingerly rolled over, pushing himself to his knees. Shaking his head, Echo-3 brought his hand up to his face and froze in place once again.

His hand was touching the mic protruding from his headset. Pulling the headset off, the man stared at the gadget. It was bent slightly on the side where the woman had struck him, but even if it was broken, he had spoken the words before the blow. They had been listening. Throwing the device on the ground, Echo-3 jumped up and brought his foot down on it, smashing the dark plastic to pieces.

_This isn't worth it. Fuck this._ Grabbing the red-and-orange scarf around his neck, the man angrily yanked it free. Staring at the cloth for a moment, he tossed it into the air. The winds picked up on it, sending it spiraling through the air and over the streets as the first drops of rain came down on the city. The drizzle quickly turned into a downpour, and the gray concrete of the roof was stained a darker hue.

_At least it's not stained red_, the man thought to himself, watching the scarf flutter down with the rain, disappearing from his sights. Turning to the door, Echo-3 took off in a tentative jog, his balance still rattled by the blow from earlier.

Outside in the rain, the scarf continued its descent with increasing speed. It would reach the ground soon enough; inevitably, without fail.


	50. Chapter 49: Left in the dust

Chapter 49: Left in the dust

A construction site on the outskirts of Acapulco, the famous Mexican tourist trap of the 1950s. A gentle breeze swaying the trees in the shaded July evening. The quiet peace is but a fleeting illusion; a façade about to be torn down. Much like what used to stand on the lot before the construction work.

"I see… a thin man. A few seekers farther back. I can't tell the numbers from the shadows." Squint was huddled next to a large freight container filled with soil. She was looking at the interface of the BattleScanner™ Receiver pad as the high-tech surveillance equipment revealed ground past a pair of shipping containers and a construction office. Corporal Volatile was in charge of the operation, the infantrywoman leaning in to listen to the whispered relay of information from Squint.

Looking up to the rest of the squad behind the freight container, Volatile signaled for Kamikaze to get closer. As the gunner knelt next to his leader, Volatile spoke in a low voice, "Take the grenadiers up behind those shipping containers, we'll take them by surprise. Squint, you're with him. I'll hold the ground from here, provide long range support. How copy?"

"Roger that", the man muttered, emphasizing his words with a solemn nod. Gesturing at Prowler and Wootastic, Kamikaze led the specialist and lance corporal across the dark field. A small digger blocked their line of sight to the enemy as the squad made their way over to the shipping containers, Squint holding the rear.

Taking cover behind the alloy of one of the aliens' abduction pods, Volatile scanned towards the enemy position. To her left a massive pit had been dug in the center of the lot, surrounded by fencing. The yellow backhoe of an excavator peeked over the edge as Volatile surveyed her squad's flank. Their position would be extremely difficult to hold if caught in a crossfire; they would need to dispatch of this initial contact ASAP.

Vherid and Pavehawk spread out to cover behind her, readying their long-range weapons. The cover was sparse and not exactly ideal; a lone wooden crate and a concrete mixer. Hunterhr had stayed with the support force, ready to deploy his smoke grenades wherever they were needed.

The assault squad reached the first shipping container, huddling into the shadows against it. Kamikaze turned to look back towards the rest of the squad, and Volatile gave him a thumbs-up. Feeling slightly uneasy, she turned to survey the pit once again.

"Go loud!" Volatile yelled as four freakishly tall and nimble shadows emerged from across the massive pit. Sending a laser fizzing past one of their heads, Volatile gritted her teeth as she braced for contact. The thin men dashed into the pit, disappearing behind a large cement mixer truck and the piles of crates and planks littering the bottom.

At the shipping containers, the assault team sprang into action. Two alien grenades launched over the container, wreaking havoc in the midst of the hapless thin men, exploding two of them into fine acidic mist and shreds of Gucci. Squint missed her mark as of one of the thin men dashed to cover, but Kamikaze didn't. Taking cover behind the small digger, the gunner's autolaser flared red in the night as he hosed high-energy at the alien, laying it down.

"Re-orient! No one's getting flanked in my squad!" Volatile yelled, taking cover against the new enemy at their left. Pavehawk and Vherid cussed as they scrambled with their heavy rocket launcher and sniper rifle, struggling to ready the weapons. The red cloud of Hunterhr's smoke grenade bloomed behind Volatile as it enveloped Vherid and Pavehawk, leaving the squad leader standing guard at the front.

The seekers behind the construction office came to life as they took to the skies above the building. Green plasma fired down on Kamikaze, forcing the gunner to huddle against the small bucket of the digger. A salvo of fire raked across his armored back, drawing a grunt of surprise from the man.

As the aliens prepared to assault, Earth's finest responded in kind. Volatile glanced a laser beam off one of the thin men in the pit as it inexplicably leapt its way over the edge, dashing into the construction office. Turning her attention to the next one, Volatile carved open the alien trying to sneak its way along the edge of the truck.

The combined efforts of Pavehawk, Wootastic and Prowler rattled the construction site as the rocket and two grenades exploded with a deafening roar. The front of the construction office went up in a massive explosion of green and orange, macabre fireworks in the Acapulcan night.

With her laser rifle now empty, Volatile dropped the weapon and drew the heater machine pistol from her hip. In the midst of the settling dust, she saw a tall figure coughing in the ruins of the building. The resemblance to a human being was uncanny, but Volatile didn't hesitate. The machine pistol stuttered in her hands, sending a spray of lasers into the ruins. With a sharp screech, the thin man collapsed into the rubble.

Squint and Hunterhr fired at the seeker looming over Kamikaze's digger, putting an end to the mechanical flier and freeing the man to join the fight. Sending a hail of lasers down towards the last remaining thin man, he pinned the creature down behind a stack of planks on the edge of the pit. The alien returned fire, sending a hail of plasma flying past the gunner. Taking advantage of the dauntless alien, Vherid locked his crosshair over its head. Connecting solidly, the laser from the sniper rifle splayed its alien brains out into the night.

Muffled groans filled the air as a solitary floater flew into the bottom of the construction pit, the voices of its podmates echoing from the darkness beyond. Volatile cussed as there was no time to reload, bringing her heater on target.

"Need help here!" Prowler yelled from behind the shipping containers. A seeker had Wootastic in its grasp at the very back, slowly but surely squeezing the life out of her. Kamikaze left the frontline to help the engineers while Squint dashed up to the fencing, ready to aid Volatile with the floaters.

A barrage of plasma shot up from the edge of the pit, causing Squint to recoil away with a surprised yelp. Firing her scatter laser wildly at the concealed thin man pressed up against the wall of the pit, Squint called for backup. Prowler obliged, his alien grenade tracing an elegant arc into the pit, the explosion engulfing both the thin man and the floater.

Volatile cussed as her heater emptied its energy cell into the floater, the alien still alive. As the half-mechanical beast brought its carbine up, another flurry of red beams punched into its chest, Pavehawk's shatterray finishing the job.

Picking up her laser rifle again, Volatile slammed in a fresh energy cell. Raising her voice, she led the squad in their final stand, "Hold your ground! They're coming!"

And so they did. The three floaters flew in over the pit in their aggressive fashion, carbines sending a hail of plasma at Squint. The scout peeked out from behind the fence, pulling away from the fire. The rest of the squad supported her, laser fire filling the sky as the aliens dropped one by one. Volatile struck one, then another as Pavehawk and Hunterhr cleaned up after their squad leader.

A quiet settled over the battlefield as the operatives waited for more to come. A moment passed, then another. Turning to her squad, Volatile took command of the situation, calm as ever, "Perimeter sweep. Squint, Pavehawk on the left. Kamikaze, you take Prowler on the right. Vherid ready to support across the pit. Hunterhr, make sure Wootastic is alright."

As the operatives acknowledged their orders, Volatile brought her hand up to her earpiece. She was wearing the same beret she'd worn on the day of Frag's last operation, with the sunglasses stashed into a pocket on the front of her flak jacket. Volatile walked up to the edge of the pit, contacting Central on the line. As she waited for the response, the deceased infantryman found his way over to her thoughts.

_What would you think of me now?_ Volatile gazed across the pit, admiring the lights of the city in the distance. The long months spent in the medbay had seen her left in the dust as the rest of the outfit's infantry had gone on multiple operations, earning promotions left and right. Wistfully, Volatile touched a hand over the pocket containing the sunglasses.

_I meant to succeed you, Frag. Fill your boots. How selfish of me to be jealous for the success of others._ Closing her eyes, Volatile wallowed in the feelings of self-condemnation. The buzzing on her earpiece brought her back to the moment as the commander's voice came through on the line.

Spotting a secluded spot in the bottom of the pit, Volatile started down the wooden ramp. What she didn't notice was Vherid, staring at her from his vantage point at the edge of the pit. The sniper regarded her with contemplative eyes. Letting out a small _hmmm_ the man turned his eyes back to the task at hand, ready to support either recon squad in the unlikely case of additional contact.


	51. Chapter 50: Firefight

Chapter 50: Firefight

Operatives lined the handgun shooting range as the day's training was coming to a close. The newly promoted Lieutenant Van Doorn was overseeing the exercise, smiling ever-so-slightly as he walked past the row of operatives with his hands behind his back.

Coming to a halt behind Awo, he inspected the target as the infantryman got ready to replace it with a new one. "Nice work, captain!" Van Doorn shouted his compliment over the gunfire. Awo glanced over at the new officer, an inquisitive look in his eyes. Leaning in closer, Van Doorn raised his voice once again, "I need to step out for a bit. Keep an eye out for me, ok?"

Awo vocalized his acknowledgment, turning back to the shooting range as Van Doorn left the long concrete hall. Tearing down the alien-shaped target, Awo noticed Merlin leering at him from the range to his right.

"Little Dumpling in charge now? Does mama have to hold your hand?" Merlin's mocking voice carried over the commotion of the shooting range. Awo shook his head indifferently at the jest, muttering under his breath as he returned to his training. Merlin stared at the man with a pout, disappointed at the lack of a reaction. Determined to having her fun, she laid down her own piece and stepped over to Awo's range.

Kilroy and Drake were practicing further down the line, lost in heated competition. They were the outfit's best shots with a pistol and neither acknowledged the other's superiority. Tearing down her target, Kilroy turned to Drake with a smug grin. Lifting up the thick paper for her friend's inspection, Kilroy's jaw dropped. Drake was holding her own target up with an unimpressed look on her face. The shots on the Indian assault's target were all clustered at the thin man's head whereas a couple of Kilroy's shots had trailed down towards the silhouette's body.

Grinning at her friend's reaction, Drake glanced past the Canadian assault. Letting out a weary sigh at the sight, Drake laid her target down on the counter and took Kilroy's attention, pointing past the woman towards Awo and Merlin. The brunette glanced over her shoulder, inspecting the sight for a while before turning back to Drake.

"Looks like the lovebirds are at it again" she shouted at Drake, letting out a hoarse chuckle.

Drake shook her head in response, giving Kilroy a reprimanding look. "This hasn't been funny for weeks, Kilroy", she shouted over the gunfire, looking at her friends with a worried look.

The squabble between Awo and Merlin had developed into a full-blown argument as the two former roommates had at each other. Merlin's temper was a frightening thing indeed and once she got rolling, there was no stopping her.

"Don't you fucking patronize me! You're the one who's acting like a little baby! Wittle bittle crybaby! 'Moooom come help, Merlin's being mean again!'" To emphasize her point, Merlin followed up with an ear-screeching cry, drowning out Awo's reply.

"See this? Why don't you act like a goddamn human being for once. What the hell is wrong with you woman?" His words had no effect on Merlin who kept on bawling, drawing looks from the other operatives on the range. Gritting his teeth, Awo grabbed the woman by her arms, trying to shake her out of it.

Jerking herself free harshly, Merlin gave her superior a shove. "Don't fucking touch me!" she screamed, resuming her insults.

Awo shook in his boots, fighting against the urge to let go of any semblance of propriety and engage the woman. The fight had been lost before it had even begun, and his voice joined Merlin's as the two slung insults at each other, the gunfire at the range now completely halted.

Renzol had been practicing her much deteriorated gunslinging between Cell and Hunterhr. Turning to look at Cell, the gunner returned her anxious stare. Lowering her earmuffs, Renzol immediately regretted the decision; Awo and Merlin still had theirs on and their voices were a deafening crash of booming and screeching as they lost themselves in the heat of the argument.

Returning the protection to her ears with a wince, Renzol turned back towards Cell. The gunner's anxious look had turned to one of disapproval and scorn as she frowned at the pair. "What the hell do they think they're doing?" she muttered, just loud enough for Renzol to hear.

The surprise at the situation had quickly flared up into irritation as Renzol regarded the fight from under her brow. Drake was standing close to the two arguing operatives but her attempts to calm down the fight were fruitless to say the least.

"How am I supposed to train like this?" the rocketeer muttered to herself in exasperation, drawing curious looks from Cell and Hunterhr. Grabbing her pistol from the counter, Renzol briskly made her way over to the troublemakers, receiving a worried inquiry from the shocked Hunterhr.

The vile words fell on her ears as she reached the scene of the fight. Stepping to the front of the range, Renzol flicked the safety off and emptied the magazine into the target at the end of the line. Turning around, she found Awo and Merlin staring at her with wide eyes, the woman holding a hand to her chest, for once quieted. Giving the two of them a cold stare, Renzol left for her own place without a word.

Cell and Hunterhr were staring at the rocketeer with incredulous looks, the gunner finally bursting into laughter as Renzol slammed a fresh magazine into her pistol. Focused on the target at the end of the range, Renzol resumed her training as gunshots filled the air at the shooting range once more.


	52. Chapter 51: Heroes

Chapter 51: Heroes

Drake leaned against the railing at the Skyranger hangar, watching on with a heavy heart as the operatives of Strike-1 descended the stairs to the aircraft sitting on its landing pad. A crowd had gathered to send off the squad deployed against an alien transport ship that had landed in the woodlands of Canada.

Drake had been on one before, and it broke her heart to watch from the sidelines as the heroes lined up in front of the Skyranger, turning to wave good-bye to the operatives on the upper level. Renzol was calm and collected as she always was these days; that is when she wasn't stark raving mad over a breach in her perfectionism. Drake could only wonder what went through the small rocketeer's head right now, her thoughts an enigma to everyone in the outfit. Surely there must have been a great deal under that emotionless façade of hers, seeing how the last transport ship operation had gone.

Hunterhr was standing next to the rocketeer, the contemplative look on his face turning to a gentle smile as he waved goodbye to the people wishing them luck. Drake couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if the medic had been on the last two large UFO operations. _Save somebody's life today, Congo,_ she thought to herself, wishing him the best of luck in her mind.

Kungtotte was standing next to the medic, and Drake returned the sniper's smile as their eyes met. He was a good man, too good for war. He belonged back home with his wife and kid; hopefully that would be true one day in the distant, distant future.

Captain Medve seemed the most distant of the group, his brow furrowed in concentration as he absentmindedly answered the good-byes. Drake felt a tinge of pity and sorrow for the big man; he had been the first of their new officers and had distanced himself from rank-and-file. Drake suspected the man carried a heavy burden from Frag's death, manifesting in his dedication to the duties of leadership. _But don't we all have our crosses to bear?_ she thought to herself, the anxiety eating her up from inside.

Scubaman was wooing the ladies on the stands as always, sending out flying kisses into the crowd. Smacking an exceptionally passionate one at a group of junior operatives, the man caused Amineri, Wootastic and Gamage to melt in their boots as they squealed _El Zorro's_ name. With a hearty laugh, the man turned from the girls to find Drake looking at him. With a deceptively shy smile, he made a motion of picking up his heart and sent it at Drake with a kiss. Laughing at the irresistible scumbag, Drake caught the kiss and slipped it in her pocket, drawing a cacophony of _aaaaawwws_ and _oooooohhhs_ from the girls who followed Scubaman's every move.

Hypergeek was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, clearly anxious to be off and away. He responded to the well wishes from the crowd, but didn't actively seek out people. For a brief moment, Drake wondered whether the man actually had any friends in the outfit before turning her attention to the Canadian women on the side.

Daishi was smiling her trademark good-spirited smile at the people on the upper level as someone pushed through the crowd. DSM crouched down on the edge of the level, beckoning at Daishi. The scout approached the edge, looking curiously up at her friend. Drake followed with interest as DSM leaned over, looking almost ashamed. Grabbing Daishi's hand, her lips moved as she muttered something at the tall woman, blushing ever-so-slightly. A smile bloomed on Daishi's face as she nodded solemnly and with that, DSM jumped up and retreated to the back of the crowd, yet still lingering in the hangar bay. _What was that all about? _Drake wondered, the anxiety forgotten for a brief moment.

And finally, there was Kilroy. The hot-shot secret agent was smiling confidently as she humored the people in the crowd. She was ribbing the still-injured Wolfer as the man complained over how he should've been on the mission if not for his injury. Kilroy was laughing the man's boasts off, listing the people who would've been chosen before him. The list included everyone in the outfit.

As Wolfer conceded his defeat with uncharacteristic joviality, Drake caught Kilroy's attention from across the hall. They had already had a private sending-off, but seeing Kilroy ready to leave for the landed alien craft without her still stung Drake's heart. Last time it had been Foogle who hadn't made it back; before that, Frag. Seeing her sister ready to leave without her, Drake felt the anxiety turn into anguish.

_Not her. Don't let them take her away from me, too._ Kilroy's smile died down as she saw Drake's expression. Realizing she was on the verge of tears, Drake shook herself hard, giving her cheeks a pair of solid slaps. Kilroy was staring at her with an incredulous yet amused look, and as the stinging drove the tears away, Drake responded with a laugh. It was half-hearted and not at all what she was feeling right now, but it was the best she could muster for Kilroy.

"Alright everyone, get on inside. This isn't a farewell. We're all coming back", Medve raised his voice over the hustle of the crowd, and everyone waved their last good-byes at the crowd. Walking up the ramp into the Skyranger, the heroes of Strike-1 disappeared to the interior one by one. Holding the rear, Kilroy turned around once more to look at Drake, giving her a thumbs up. Smiling at the gesture, Drake watched her sister get eaten up by the Skyranger as the ramp rolled up, the jets quickly flaring up as the craft prepared to take off.

The hangar doors in the ceiling came to motion as the sealing mechanisms released themselves, and daylight swarmed the hall. The aircraft took off with a massive roar as its high-tech jets lifted the plane up ever so steadily. Rising above the doors, the main jets re-oriented as the aircraft prepared to launch. With a massive blast, the Skyranger disappeared from their sights as it departed for the site of their outfit's next operation. The doors closed with a resounding clang, and the crowd in the hangar bay slowly began to disperse.

Drake leaned against the railing, lost in thought. The anxiety was still strong inside, and she had a feeling it would not recede until the squad returned. A hand landed on her shoulder and she turned her head to find Orgun standing next to her. The normally so boisterous rocketeer was wearing a sympathetic and gentle smile on his face.

Opening her mouth, Drake searched for the words for a while, stumbling over herself. Unable to voice her feelings properly, she settled on a sigh and a platitude, "I should be with them."

Orgun let out a sigh of his own, leaning his backside onto the railing next to her. "I know how you feel", he spoke solemnly, looking off into the distance.

"Do you? Do you really?" Her voice was sharper than intended, and she glimpsed a look of hurt in Orgun's eyes before the man concealed it. With a frustrated sigh, Drake hung her head over the rail. "Sorry", she muttered her apology.

"Hey, don't mention it." There were no more words. The two operatives kept on leaning against the railing, lost in their thoughts long after the rest of the crowd had left the hangar bay and returned to their daily schedules.

* * *

The setting sun cast dark shadows amongst the trees surrounding the huge alien craft. Strike-1 was making their way through the edge of the forest and the steep sides of its hills, careful not to attract more unwanted attention from within. The carcasses of multiple chryssalids littered the short strip of no-man's land between the forest and the UFO farther back, the remnants of their first contact with the extraterrestrial defenders.

Captain Medve was leading the squad with his second-in-command Scubaman close by. Signaling for the formation to halt, the captain stopped beneath a massive pine tree to discuss the approach with his lieutenant. Renzol spread out into cover with the rest of the squad, preparing her launcher in case of surprise contact. The small hillock they were on sported quite sparse cover as the squad huddled behind an overturned log, scanning for activity. The rise came to a dead-stop beyond Medve's pine tree, falling to the ground in a steep wall of bedrock some three meters tall.

From her position Renzol could clearly see the alien transport ship to her left, but directly in front of her, a patch of forest concealed the rest of the craft from her vision. Medve finished his parley with Scubaman and signaled for Hypergeek to join them. Renzol followed the engineer with her eyes as he joined the two officers. Caressing her launcher gently, she cleared her mind.

_All you see is the battlefield. All you are is a soldier. You fear nothing, _she repeated the mantra to herself. Hypergeek pulled a BattleScanner from his rig, sending the sturdy little device far into the shaded forest beyond with a trained throwing arm. Kneeling down with Medve, the engineer surveyed the interface of his combat tablet. A few mumbles between the two followed before the captain got up, walking hurriedly back to the squad.

"We have two cyberdiscs beyond the forest, supported by four drones. Kungtotte, Daishi, get back on that outcropping behind us. Lie down in the tall grass, hopefully you can get an angle with your rifles. Renzol, get ready. You'll take us off with Hypergeek's help" the litany of orders was spoken with confidence as the gunner led his people. The marksmen took off with haste as Renzol slid a shredder rocket into her launcher.

Hypergeek crouched down next to her, the Belgian engineer's face stern and no-nonsense in concentration as he inspected the coordinates on the bottom of the screen. Taking a glance at the pad in his hands, Renzol blinked. The view on the screen was constantly revolving as Hypergeek twirled the joystick around, panning throughout the area beyond the forest. It would've been impossible to aim a rocket with only the image to guide her. That's what squad training is for.

The engineer's voice reflected his concentration as he spoke curtly, "Distance is… set fuse timer to two seconds. Center on the right edge of that withered pine tree there, see?" the man leaned in to point out the target for the rocketeer with the laser of a rangefinder.

Renzol muttered her acknowledgment as she punched in the ignition timer on the launcher's interface before pulling out the long-range targeting reticle intended for targets out of line of sight. It extended to the sides of the launcher from the top, allowing her to change her aim based on instructions without having to center the targeting system again. Adjusting the sight, she centered the 90o mark on the edge of the withered tree. It left plenty of room for her to pan her aim to either side based on the instructions that were to follow.

"Target is stationary… take aim at nine-five degrees", Hypergeek spoke without taking his eyes off the pad, gently rolling the joystick around to make sure no new contacts had moved into the area.

Renzol followed the instructions, moving the launcher carefully to the left until the edge of the tree reached the line indicating 95o. "Target locked. Clear my backblast", she spoke, gripping the handle with a palm slightly sweating from the tension. Her trigger finger twitched as she waited for the engineer's go.

"Fire!" Hypergeek's order rang in the air around the squad, loud enough for everyone to know it was go-time. Renzol pulled the ignition, and the shredder rocket left the launcher with a massive _swoooosh,_ sending up dead grass and pine needles from the ground behind her_. _Renzol struggled against the blast as she kept the launcher on target, pulling it down from her shoulder as she followed the trail of smoke into the forest. The explosion that followed shook the tops of the pine trees before them, sending a flock of crows into the dusky air, cawing their displeasure at the sudden commotion.

"What a shot! Two drones down, I repeat, two drones down. Impact on both discs. Prepare the next shredder, we'll hit them again before they know what happened!" the engineer's voice was hectic as the ecstasy of battle rushed his veins.

Renzol complied, pulling the shredder rocket from her back and slamming it into the launcher. Shouldering the weapon, she heard Hunterhr's shout as the red cloud of smoke enveloped the squad, all except for Medve who was standing behind the huge pine tree, autolaser readied on his hip.

"Clear my backblast! What's the angle?" Renzol yelled as lasers fizzled through the air from farther back as Kungtotte and Daishi engaged the enemy at range.

Hypergeek's lips moved heatedly as he ran himself through the simulation. "They're on the move, one-oh-five degrees. Repeat, one-oh-five degrees and FIRE!"

Renzol pulled the ignition once more, this time cussing as the launcher jerked hard on her shoulder. She wasn't exactly sure she'd gotten the angle right. The smoke trail disappeared into the forest once more and Renzol wasted no time as she reached for one of the two regular rockets she had left; hitting a concealed target with their smaller blast area would be a lot harder.

"_Merde!_ Impact only on one of them. Prepare the next roc-", the engineer's instructions turned into a loud cheer as a laser punched over the open ground. "Disc down! I repeat, one disc is down!" The cheer quickly turned into a cuss once more as he inspected the view provided through the BattleScanner, "_Les fils de pute_ is getting repaired by those little fucks! Another rocket, one-three-one! Fire at will!"

Renzol kept her breathing going hard as she lifted the loaded launcher to her shoulder a third time. Taking aim in a hurry, she locked in at 113o and pulled the ignition. The rocket blasted off into the forest and beyond, followed by a cry of dismay from Hypergeek, "_Mon Dieu! _Where are you firing that rocket?"

Renzol felt a lump form at the back of her throat before a flare of frustration overpowered the feeling of failure. "Speak English you French fuck! That's why you repeat the GODDAMN COORDINATES!" The look Hypergeek gave her could kill, but as the man glanced back at the pad, the source of his concerns changed.

"Incoming!" The engineer's cry prompted another smoke grenade from Hunterhr and the red cloud bloomed over the people at the overturned log, leaving Medve standing guard at the wide trunk of the pine tree.

The cyberdisc came in hard, spinning wildly around the edge of the forest as its chromed surface glimmered in the rays of the setting sun. A laser punched into its hull from the marksman squad, to no recognizable effect. Even with smoke, the log was suddenly looking like a most inadequate piece of cover against the mechanized threat, and Renzol dropped her launcher as she reached around for the laser rifle hanging on her side.

The autolaser at the front of the squad spun up with a massive howl as Medve hosed a spray of energy at the disc coming in low, skimming along the surface of the ground. Even as the howling of the weapon grew ever more urgent, the captain didn't stop. The cooling systems struggled to keep the lasers coming but Medve kept on firing, the rays of energy striking true as the red barrage of death kept following the disc's every move.

Its alloy shell shredded by the rockets from before, the cyberdisc had no chance. Only as the oversized frisbee dropped to the ground in an explosion of circuitry and yellow fire did Medve let his autolaser have its rest. The captain was standing with his legs spread, smoke rising along the barrel of the huge weapon. Pulling back into cover, he yelled for everyone to get ready for the follow-up.

The two remaining drones came in after the disc, looking almost sad as they searched for a target to repair. Renzol gritted her teeth as she sent a laser fizzing past one of them, but Scubaman shouted merrily from behind her as he dropped the target. Another flurry of lasers flew past the second one, and once again the infantryman's cheer rang over the squad as he claimed another kill.

"All contact is down", Hypergeek reported as he put away his pad, the BattleScanner having expired in the heat of the battle. Reloading one after the other, the squad stayed put for a moment, waiting for reinforcements to arrive on the alien side.

When nothing came, Medve turned to his squad. The man had a stern look on his face, but a small smile peeked through as he complimented his people. "Great job, everyone. Nice shooting on the drones, Scuba. Which one of you dropped that oversized piece of crap?" the captain inquired as Kungtotte and Daishi approached the squad from farther back.

The scout pointed a thumb at Kungtotte and the sniper grinned with a small nod, ever modest but clearly pleased with himself. Medve nodded, keeping the interlude brief, "Very good, Kungtotte. Nice work on the rockets Renzol and Hypergeek. Those were some difficult shots, but they paid off. Let's move out!"

Renzol brewed in anger and frustration at the perceived failure. Taking off with the rest of the squad, she gripped her laser rifle hard as she stomped across the uneven terrain. _I can do better. I know I can do better._

Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself as the squad made their way through the forest across from their fighting position. Glancing at the withered pine tree on her way past, she felt the frustration already receding to the back of her mind. _I'll give you the Boxing tonight. Oh you can be damn sure about that._

* * *

Scubaman was grinning widely as he strode through the woods next to Medve. It was always good to start a mission off with a couple of clutch kills. Not that he lacked confidence, but the warmup was always welcome.

Approaching a rise on the edge of the forest, Scubaman peered off towards the alien craft. They were about to reach the end of the UFO, and just around the last corner the gaping maw of the ship's stern awaited them. A walkway rose from next to the massive jets, running along the side. A small doorway let him glimpse a peek inside, the eerie green glow of elerium barely illuminating the entrance. A dark shadow passed by the glow as Scubaman recoiled in surprise. The howl of a chryssalid followed, and nervous murmurs filled the air around the squad.

"Oh hell no, I'm not going in there!" Scubaman spoke in a light tone, equal measures joking and serious. Medve gave the squad orders as they spread out into cover on the forested hillside, waiting.

A moment passed, and then another. As it was becoming obvious the predators would not charge them, Medve rose up from behind his log. "Well if that's how it's going to be, then that's how it'll be. Daishi, get a scan going inside. Everyone, get ready to move out. We're going in through the back", the captain's voice was calm and collected, betraying no nervousness at approaching the dangerous creatures in close quarters. Scubaman had to give him credit for that.

Staring off into the doorway, the lieutenant raised his voice in jest as Kilroy passed him by, "Why aren't these bugs rushing us? What do they think they are, velociraptors?" The assault barked up a small laugh before taking point. With a sigh and a somewhat fluttery stomach, Scubaman joined her as they led the squad down the hillside.

"Sectoids and chryssalids. I can't get a number on them. They just keep dashing in and out of view", Daishi reported as the BattleScanner provided her with its vision. Medve gave his chin a contemplative rub as he considered the approach.

_So what you're telling me dear Daishi, is that all of these xenos look the same to you?_ Scubaman chuckled to himself as he bit back the urge to make the jest, knowing Medve would not take kindly to such shenanigans in a time like this.

"Scan again at the backdoor. Hunterhr, be ready with that smoke. We're going to have to breach this one in close." Emphasizing his words, the captain turned to look at the steep cliff the alien craft had landed against. There was only a dozen or so meters between the back of the UFO and the wall of rock, with no good cover to take. The pilot of the ship sure had nailed the landing, if blocking the stern of the ship had been its intention.

Scubaman took the lead as he moved in closer to the opening, sliding right past the huge jets of the alien craft. _I sure hope the Dorito doesn't hit the throttle right about now,_ he thought to himself, the urge to share the jest with the rest of the squad almost overpowering this time. Inching closer, Scubaman stopped their advance as Daishi rolled her last BattleScanner across the doorway.

Leaning in to observe the pad, Scubaman saw a couple of sectoids and one chryssalid darting in and out of vision in the large room dominated by raised platforms on either side. The green elerium glow of the craft's power sources illuminated the walls on the sides along with the holographic images projected by several flight computers. On the ground level, waist-high alloy ridges ran across the floor. Scubaman tilted his head at the sight of the bizarre room.

"Kilroy, you'll take us off by crossing over to the other side. Everyone else, ready to support. We will take that alloy ridge closest to us", Medve paused for a moment as the operatives shifted their weight, ready to pounce. As Daishi put away the pad and lifted her strike rifle, everyone was ready. With one final glance over the squad, Medve spoke the words, "Go, go, go!"

Kilroy dashed across the doorway, pulling her laser pistol on the run and firing into the large hall. The angle was awkward as there was only one real firing port into the hall from either side, and the threat of the chryssalids loomed close. The squad fought on from their position out of cover as Hypergeek sent a grenade into the ship, blowing up one of the ridges further away, catching two sectoids in the explosion. Laser fire barreled into the UFO as the remaining sectoid was carved open by Daishi's strike rifle.

A panicked scream from their right caught Scubaman off guard as he glanced at Kilroy. The woman was huddled behind the large jet, taking cover from the sectoids concealed from Scubaman's sight. The woman seemed to be under no pressure from the enemy, but Scubaman knew better. He felt a tinge of pity for the woman as the enemy assaulted her mentally, driving her to a huddled pile on the ground.

_Damn, we need her against those 'lids,_ the thought crossed his mind as a cacophony of screams erupted around him. The squad had been ready to move in, but suddenly their laser fire re-oriented, red energy bursting towards the top of the ship. As Scubaman turned to look, he saw a single chryssalid descend from the roof.

_Fuck me,_ was all he managed to think as everyone missed the falling creature. Bringing his laser rifle up, the Latino managed to glance the horrific insect as it landed right next to him with an eerily graceful bend of its extremities. As the bug rose to its rear claws, Scubaman watched saliva droop down from its twitching jaws. For a moment, the world stopped.

With a desperate yell, the infantryman brought his right arm up, the claw of the chryssalid piercing through the butt of his rifle. The other claw came in hard from his left, raking across his chest as the flak jacket was torn open like a cheap paper bag. The yell turned into a scream of agony as Scubaman's vision darkened. Leaning away from the creature, he pulled hard on his rifle. Twisting the weapon on target he pulled the trigger, all the while falling, falling, falling down to the ground.

Collapsing onto his back, Scubaman let out a muffled grunt as he felt the rifle twist free of the chryssalid's grasp. Desperately struggling for air, panic filled his mind as nothing came in. The gash across his chest was pulsing with red hot pain, the deadly acid from the wound seeping into his blood stream. He felt the veins on his neck bulge as the substance coursed in, sealing his fate.

_Goodnight,_ he thought as the world rapidly darkened. From a distance, he heard the muffled sounds of battle and a shout as something shook his world. The face of Hunterhr appeared above him as the medic leaned in, slamming a needle into his neck. Pain exploded in Scubaman's chest as air rushed his lungs, bringing the world back to him. Shaking his head in shock, Scubaman gasped for air as Hunterhr sprayed medicinal foam into his wound.

"Clever-", Scubaman broke down into a fit of gasps as the pain of speaking overwhelmed him. Taking a deep breath, he pushed through the pain, adamant. "Clever girl", he croaked at the medic, a wild grin rising to Hunterhr's face as Scubaman refused to let go of his ways even in the face of certain death. Grabbing him by the shoulder, the medic pulled Scubaman up to a sitting position.

Picking up the laser rifle next to him with a grunt, Scubaman turned back to the fight. Daishi, Medve and Hypergeek were struggling inside, behind the closest alloy ridge as they staved off the horde of sectoids, chryssalids and floaters. Floaters? "Oh this is just great", Scubaman groaned, striking one of the chryssalids with his rifle. Cursing as the weapon ran out of ammo, he pulled the heater machine pistol from his belt and finished off the creature before it could threaten his comrades.

Out of nowhere, Daishi screamed in panic as the sectoids continued crippling their squad with psychic assaults. As Hypergeek joined the woman in her wailing, Scubaman felt his stomach turn. Falling to his side, the infantryman let out the contents of his stomach to the ground in a flurry of pained gags, each convulsion stretching open his chest in unimaginable pain.

_It's just the shock of the trauma. I'm not losing it. I'm not losing it,_ Scubaman assured himself as another convulsion overtook him. _They need me, get it together dammit!_ Steeling himself, Scubaman prepared to rise to his knees and join the fight proper.

"Scuba!" the frantic cry of Kungtotte from behind caused the infantryman to look up. A floater flew in from under the maw of the ship, its plasma carbine pointing at him. Helplessly, Scubaman watched on as the muzzle of the weapon flashed green.

* * *

_No, no, no. No this isn't right…please, no more._ Kilroy didn't know whether she was speaking or thinking; the world had collapsed around her, and all she could do was take in the horrific imagery.

Corpses wearing the XCOM combat uniform littered the ground around the stern of the alien ship. The alloys were stained dark red as the end had finally come. The air in the ship was heavy, with clouds of dark crimson rolling in from the horizon beyond as the scenery twisted into visions of madness.

Daishi was hanging by the wall of the ship, impaled into the alloys with severed chryssalid claws. Below her, Renzol was sitting down, chin resting against her chest. She was clutching a pistol in her hand, the side of her head blown open as her brains decorated the wall beyond. On the ground before her, Frag was lying on his back. His neck was completely burned away by plasma, the dead eyes of his severed head staring deep into Kilroy's soul.

_Something's not right…this isn't right. _As the panicked thought filled her mind, Kilroy felt something gnawing at the edges of her consciousness. But just as she thought of grabbing onto that gnawing feeling, she closed her eyes to hide from the vision of her dead friends.

Closing her eyes was not an option. A nauseating twist rose in her stomach as her lids rolled around in her head, closing her eyes only opening them to the sight once again. Sobbing pitifully, she looked on as Scubaman shuffled amongst the corpses. The man had been so full of life; now his lifeless carcass wandered amongst the bodies of the dead.

Wherever she turned her eyes, ever more death greeted her. Foogleman was suspended in the air, the seeker still holding her in its grasp. Kilroy broke into tears as she saw the woman's face; she hadn't been able to save her. _I'm sorry, Foogs. I'm so sorry._ Half of her face was torn off by buckshot, the other half twisted into a mocking grin. _You did this. You killed me,_ it screamed at her, driving Kilroy insane.

Sobbing helplessly, she turned to see the end. In the middle of the great bloodied hall, under the rolling clouds of crimson thunder, Drake lay on an operating table. Her sister was split open from crotch to throat, and under the fluorescent lights, a pair of men in white coats observed her insides. They wore red-and-orange scarves around their faces as they poked and picked at Drake's body, muttering to each other in cold voices.

_I can't. I can't do it. I give up._ Laying her head down, Kilroy realized she had been hugging her scatter laser the whole time. She was huddled into a small ball, the weapon pointing at her face. It would be so easy. The trigger was right there. All it would take was a small pull, and it would all be over. With a sigh of relief, she reached for the release.

_I've been dead a long time, Kilroy._ It was a voice she hadn't heard in ages. It was calm and confident, and a little bit sad. And with it, the gnawing suspicion returned. This wasn't right.

"F-Frag?" she muttered in confusion as the visions before her wavered, a ripple on the surface of insanity. Shaking her head, Kilroy tried to grasp onto that gnawing feeling, like a drowning woman grasps onto a straw of grass. Yes, this isn't right. Frag died months ago.

_What the hell are you doing, woman? Get up and fight!_ This voice was hard and cold, full of sass. Squeezing her eyes shut, Kilroy shook her head. Reaching up a hand, she slapped herself hard, shouting triumphantly as her head cleared. Opening her eyes, she saw the world swim back into view; blurry through the visions yes, but without a shadow of a doubt the real world.

With a scream, Kilroy brought the scatter laser up and fired at the chryssalid charging her. Three undistinguishable operatives were huddled behind an alloy ridge in the hall, under fire by the enemy and unable to fight all of the aliens as the bugs speeded past them, clattering towards Kilroy on their long claws.

The first one dropped down in a heap of cracked chitin, and Kilroy pumped her scatter laser. _That's more like it! You go girl!_ The voice faded out as the last of the visions disappeared from her sights. The second chryssalid was still coming at her, and Kilroy brought her weapon on target.

Letting it get close, she released a burst of high-energy rays into the disgusting creature. Its momentum carrying it on, the chryssalid tumbled past Kilroy in a tangled mess of claws. But more were still coming.

A lone chryssalid charged through the middle of the hall, plasma fire from the floaters leaving the squad unable to respond. Leaping off the alloy ridge the vanguard was using for cover, the creature flew through the air towards Kilroy.

"Motherfucker!" Kilroy yelped as she turned around and ran. Her knees were wobbly and her chest was burning, and glancing down as she pumped her weapon, she found a plasma burn on her armor. With no time to wonder about the wounds she had taken, Kilroy scrambled away from the maw of the ship and the alien giving her chase.

Almost tripping over the roots and rocks jutting from the ground, Kilroy saw the cliffside rise up before her. Knowing it was the end of the road, she wheeled around, bringing her scatter laser up. With a sharp cuss, she stumbled over an overturned log, falling to the ground.

The chryssalid leapt into view over the log. Firing her scatter laser at the airborne creature, Kilroy sent it flying over her head. Pressing herself to the ground, she closed her eyes as the chryssalid's claws stirred the air before her. Opening her eyes, Kilroy stared at the crimson sky, so beautiful in its natural sunset. Rolling to her side, she threw up all over the bodice of her flak jacket.

With a sputtering cough, she reached an arm to the top of the log and dragged herself up. Looking on towards the fight, Kilroy barely saw through the red cloud enveloping the entrance. With a deep breath, she pushed herself up to her feet and gingerly clambered over the log, a shout leaving her lips:

"Hold on! I'm coming!"

* * *

"Fire in the hole!"

Renzol's shout was followed by a deafening roar as the rocket's explosion engulfed the two floaters on the ledge to the squad's right. An elerium power source went up in a bright flash of green as the explosion shook the hall. Scraps of flight computer rained down over both sides as the creatures turned tail and barreled off towards the back of the great hall.

"Don't let them get away!" Medve ordered his people, dashing after the enemy. Plasma rained down on him from the back of the open room as the previously retreated sectoids ambushed the advancing gunner. Pushing his head down, Medve swung his autolaser from side-to-side as he sprinted for the wall before him, green fire fizzing past his head.

Crashing against the wall of the platform, the captain wasted no time. Stepping out, his autolaser spun up and the red beams nailed one of the sectoids to the wall, leaving burnt pieces of the little gray man sticking to the alloys of the ship. Continuing to fire, Medve turned the beam of his weapon towards the remaining sectoid.

The alien tried to escape, the wildly spinning beam of red fire glancing its bony backside as it scampered away. A red beam fizzed through the air from behind Medve as Daishi caught the fleeing alien with her strike rifle, and one last squeal left the sectoid as it tumbled to the floor in a burned heap.

"Only two more left! Take the hall!" Following the captain's words, Daishi dashed up the left side of the room as Medve took the bizarre alien lift up to the devastated level. He felt queasy as the energy field lifted him up through the air and to the ledge, but wasted no time in dashing up to a flight computer. Behind him, the rest of the squad moved in.

"I see them!" Daishi shouted from across the hall, her strike rifle rising up sharply. The scout took the shot, and a floater's muffled groan rang in the air as the creature rolled in through the door located in the middle of the back wall.

A grenade flew through the air as Hypergeek found his mark. The wall around the large doorway shook as the explosion of green energies tore a large opening into the material, revealing the last enemy beyond. Before Medve had time to take aim, a deadly red beam from Kungtotte's rifle pierced the creature's body, laying down last of the contact.

"Tend to the wounded!" Medve ordered, signaling for Daishi and Hypergeek to stay on the ledge to the left while he kept an eye on their right. Down on ground level, Kilroy grimaced as Kungtotte brought out his medkit.

Scubaman staggered into the room with a wild laugh, miraculously alive. "Those things can't shoot for shit! Did you see that guy?" The laughter turned into whimpers of pain as he laid himself down on the ground, leaning against the wall.

"Ow, ow, ow! Goddamn that hurts. Hey, Congo! You got some more of that magic juice for me?" Approaching the wounded soldier, Hunterhr pulled a syringe from his medkit. Injecting the contents of the needle into Scubaman's arm, a blissful smile spread across the man's face.

"Morphine, baby! Now that is a man's cocktail! You want some, Kilroy? Congo'll hook you up!" his speech was a frantic avalanche of words as what little inhibitions remained in him disappeared with the drug.

Taking a good look at Kilroy for the first time since the beginning of the heated battle, Scubaman burst into laughter once more. "Wow, you look like shit Kilroy! What happened to my beautiful Angel of Death?"

The assault barked up a laugh, retorting jovially to the gibe, "Me? Take a look at yourself, Scuba."

The infantryman's smile widened to a grin, his eyes sparkling. "Don't you know, Kilroy? _El Zorro_ always looks fabulous, even on Death's Door!" Scubaman's words incited a cacophony of laughter in the hall, Hunterhr stepping away from the man with a chuckle as he finished tending to his wound.

Medve grinned at the sight. He was happy the man was alive, but the mission was far from over yet. He knew what kind of a crew piloted these ships, and the operatives of Strike-1 still had their work cut out for them. "Great work everyone, but it's not over yet. Let's get ready to move out", the captain spoke, drawing Scubaman's attention.

"Igor my man! He kinda looks like an Igor, doesn't he? A big, badass Russian man. Not that there's anything wrong with being Dutch. I mean, not that I'm racist against Russians. I mean, not that Medve isn't a perfectly good name, captain sir. I'm gonna call you Igor from now on. Is that alright, Captain Igor?" The man's ramblings drew more chuckles and headshakes from the squad.

"Get yourself together, lieutenant", Medve commanded, thorougly amused. Scubaman jumped up, throwing up an exaggerated salute.

"Yes sir, Captain Igor sir!" Gathering up the people on the ground level, Scubaman led the group to Daishi's position on the left.

Kilroy regarded the infantryman with a look both concerned and amused. "Can you fight like that? Fucked up on morphine, can you even aim that rifle?" the assault spoke, drawing another laugh from Scubaman.

"This is nothing, Kilroy! You should've seen me back on the streets of Buenos Aires! I used to shoot best when drunk!" the man's words sparked up Kilroy's curiosity; Scubaman had never spoken of his time in Argentina. He had shared stories about his immigration to the US, learning the language and enlisting in the military but never anything beyond that. Before she could inquire further Medve joined the squad, taking the lead.

Strike-1 made their way out of the great hall located at the stern of the ship, walking out into the ever-darkening evening. The last rays of sunlight licked the tops of the great alloy arches running along both sides of the craft. Below them, the cargo of the transport ship waited to be claimed by the Council's recovery team. Leading his squad down the ramp, Medve heard a chilling howl pierce the air.

"Great, just what we need. More 'lids", Kilroy muttered from next to the captain. The squad leader lifted his arm up, halting their advance.

"Get in formation. We're doing this by the book", Medve spoke and the operatives formed a tight circle, with Scubaman in the middle. Advancing along the pathway running through the middle of the UFO, they entered a world out of a nightmare.

The alien craft's bizarre design rose all around them, like the fortress of some madman. Chasms appeared in regular intervals along the edges of the walkway, plunging down to a network of pipes running below. Green and red lights glimmered down in the depths, pulsing steadily like the life blood of a great beast. The cargo spaces on both sides were filled with dark boxes, the shadows between them no doubt teeming with chryssalids.

The floor of the walkway was adorned with small fluorescent lights on the side, with larger ones located at every intersection. The lights shone up towards the now-darkened sky, casting eerie shadows on the sides of the great alloy arches. Another blood curdling howl pierced the air, followed by the clatter of claws on alloy.

"I'm keeping my eyes up, you can be damn sure about that", Scubaman muttered from the center of the formation as they inched their way forwards. Their weapons were trained towards the openings on either side as the squad covered each other's angles. The howling intensified all around them as the chryssalids prepared to strike at their prey.

A tall, distorted shadow appeared on the wall of one of the cargo spaces. The howls were joined by intense clattering as the chryssalids descended upon the squad from all sides. Lasers pierced through the air as the shadows of operatives and aliens alike danced on the walls, almost elegant in their ballet of death.

As was often the case with chryssalids, the battle was over as soon as it had begun. Six purple carcasses spilled ichor onto the floor of the alien craft, and the squad let out a collective sigh of relief. Reloading his autolaser, Medve turned to regard his people.

"You know what still awaits us. Let's go wrap this up, and we'll all get to go home." Even as he spoke the words, doubt filled Medve's mind. Would they be able to take the outsiders without any deaths? If Frag hadn't been able to lead them successfully, how could he possibly do that?

_If someone's going down, I'll be damned if it isn't me._ Steeling himself, Captain Medve led his squad up through one of the cargo spaces to their right. The dark had settled over the forest and the UFO amidst it, and the faint green glow of elerium peeked into the night from the open main door of the cockpit. The sight of the familiar room was nauseating from this perspective; Medve could almost see Frag peeking out from behind the corner, Foogleman firing her shotgun from that alloy ridge. Both now long dead.

Spreading out quietly, the squad took position on the small door on the side of the cockpit. Kilroy and Daishi hung to the back, ready to move to the open main door. With Medve's go, Scubaman hit the switch next to the door, causing the energy field to recede.

It was an ambush, one that would weigh heavily on Medve's heart. From behind the corner, two outsiders appeared out of nowhere. As they took aim on the squad, Hypergeek reacted first. His last alien grenade flew at the aliens, the explosion causing them to recoil from the fight. Medve wasted no time.

"Push up! These two need to die!" Medve didn't want to think of the rest inside the cockpit. The wall was partially blown open by the grenade and as Medve dived into cover behind the alloy ridge, a barrage of green energy whizzed past his head. A flurry of lasers rained down on the two outsiders, a disconcerting amount of them missing. Sounds of battle emanated from the back of the cockpit as well as Kilroy, Renzol and Daishi engaged the enemy.

Medve's autolaser spun up, tearing the one behind the ridge to shreds from point-blank range. As the other outsider dismantled from a precise laser shot, Medve witnessed the price they had to pay for the careless breach.

Kungtotte dashed to cover next to Medve, holding his rifle in the air as he slid the last few meters on one knee. The man's face was calm in concentration, and he never realized what hit him. As the barrage of plasma buried itself under the sniper's raised arm, his eyes glazed over. Without a sound, Kungtotte slumped to the ground limply as the sniper rifle fell from his grasp, clattering against the alloys of the ship.

_No. Not like this. Don't let it happen this easily,_ the captain begged in his mind as he stared at the sniper's still body. For a moment, it looked like he drew in a stuttering breath, but Medve couldn't be sure. He was completely oblivious to the battle raging on around them as plasma fizzed by his head.

Inside the cockpit, Kilroy screamed in agony as she drew fire from the enemy that had moved out to engage Medve and the rest of the squad. She fired her scatter laser at the outsider huddled behind a flight computer. As the enemy turned to face her, she smashed her weapon into its smooth face, over and over again until it fell to the ground. Bringing her scatter laser around, she blasted the creature to oblivion.

The desperate cries for help barely reached Medve's ears as he kept staring at Kungtotte's face. The sounds were coming from a great distance away; muffled, indistinguishable background noise. A sudden jolt of pain ran up his shoulder and all the way to his central nervous system as the plasma burned away at his flesh. Eyes rolling back in his head, Medve bit into his tongue, the taste and smell of fresh blood rushing his senses.

_NO! I won't have it! Not like this, Frag! Hold on, friend! I'm coming!_ With a bestial roar, Medve jumped up. Bringing the autolaser around, he barely felt the sizzling skin and burnt muscle of his shoulder as the weapon spun up in his hands. A massive barrage of laser fire blasted towards the last two outsiders, the creatures taking cover behind similar alloy ridges behind the cockpit. The front one was a massive hulk of a beast, double the size of its smaller brethren.

Screaming madly, Medve was oblivious to Hunterhr huddled next to him on the ridge. Scubaman and Hypergeek moved into the cockpit as Kilroy reloaded her weapon inside. She was pushed up against the wall, mere meters from the enemy.

"Come on, do it! KILL ME YOU UGLY MOTHERFUCKERS!" the weapon in Medve's hands screamed deafeningly, but the man's defiant roar rang louder. The outsiders sent a rain of green death at him, and Medve tossed his head wildly from side to side. He didn't know what he was doing; dodging the fire or trying to catch it.

Red energy rained down on the outsiders, pinning them behind cover. As Medve stood his ground, his squad moved in to support. Kilroy was the first one out of the cockpit, yelling incoherently as she moved in between the outsiders. The smaller one disintegrated from a single well-placed shot. As the monstrous pilot of the craft tried to wheel around, it was greeted by Daishi, the strike rifle sending a sizzling hot laser through the creature's shoulder. Kilroy followed up with another screamed shot, and the enemy shook from the impact of the blast, losing hold of its carbine. Without a moment's hesitation, Hypergeek jumped up to the alloy ridge as Medve's weapon finally died down. Taking aim squarely on the creature's head, a red flash in the darkened evening signaled the end of the fight, the dust from the alien's body scattering into the four winds.

Medve reeled for a moment, the autolaser falling from his grasp. With a roaring voice, the captain in him worked on autopilot. Realizing the mic on his flak jacket was burnt and useless, Medve grabbed the radio phone from his waist. "BIG SKY GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW. WE HAVE A MAN DOWN, MOVE YOUR GODDAMN TITS!" Not waiting for a response, he turned to Daishi. "Move your ass, tech sergeant! Kungtotte's life depends on you!"

The scout responded with a brisk nod before turning on her heels. Taking off in full sprint, the strike rifle swung wildly from side-to-side as Daishi headed for the LZ located some distance into the woods.

Turning to look at Kungtotte, Medve saw Hunterhr kneeling next to the wounded man. Picking out Renzol and Hypergeek from the group of people, Medve roared for the two uninjured operatives to help the medic. The rocketeer and engineer knelt on either side of the wounded sniper, leaning in to hold him in the places Hunterhr showed them.

Against the torn wall of the cockpit, Scubaman and Kilroy leaned their beaten bodies against each other. The Latino rested his head on Kilroy's shoulder, his breathing heavy and hard as the adrenaline left his body. "You gonna die, Scuba?" Kilroy muttered, reaching an arm around the man's shoulders with a grimace.

"If I said yes, would you fuck me right now?" the man responded in a weary yet solemn tone. Kilroy croaked out a small laugh and turned to regard the man next to her.

"Are you ever serious? Like, ever?" Kilroy was smiling affectionately at the man next to her. She would never admit it, but he meant so much more to her than she let on.

Scubaman didn't open his eyes nor reply, choosing to just smile quietly instead. After a while, he let out the quietest of mutters, little more than a whisper, "Who said anything about jokes?"

Medve turned his face up to the sky, closing his eyes in pain. His body was on fire, and his mind was a tangled mess. Taking a deep breath, he enjoyed the slightly chilly northern air on his face for a while longer before bringing the radio phone up to his mouth.

* * *

The air hung heavy in the hangar, reminiscent of a thunderstorm fast approaching.

Waiting was the last thing Drake wanted to be doing right now, but it was all she had. Shifting her weight anxiously from one side to the other, she sat perched on the railing above the Skyranger landing pad. Everyone from the barracks and medbay was there. Wolfer was lost in thought next to Instinct, the two assaults looking better by the day. Even Rata, who had been on life support for two weeks, was on the edge of the crowd in her patient's gown, dragging her drip around with her.

_I should've been with them. I NEEDED to be with them, _Drake thought while running a hand through her dark hair, grabbing onto the locks hard. Knowing how the previous large UFO assaults had gone; losing Frag, losing Foogleman. The flight back, delirious from pain medication and injuries. But at least it hadn't been THIS. Not knowing. Not knowing was what drove Drake out of her mind.

She ran all of the possibilities in her head, over and over again. No capture specialist Hypergeek? She wasn't exactly close to him, but she respected the man. His loss would be sorely missed in the outfit. No Congo Hunterhr? The reliable, intellectual medic who had given up his uniform to do volunteer humanitarian aid work in the worst corners of the world. The man who was probably the single best human being in the outfit.

No big man Medve? Drake had served alongside the captain since day one. They had gone through the hell that was Frag's last operation together; they had fought side-by-side on the landed abductor as the chryssalids had swarmed them; he had held her back as Drake had gone insane with sorrow as Foogleman had fallen. Their lovable captain, so dedicated to his work and the well-being of his operatives.

No baby Renzol, all grown up now? The frail girl who had been absolutely devastated by Frag's death was nowhere to be seen now as the rocketeer had become the top soldier in the outfit. Her rigorous training had paid off, and Drake wouldn't have anyone else covering her back with explosives, as much as she couldn't tell that to Orgun. _In a way, I think she died that day on the transport ship. _The thought of her falling on another one was insulting in its irony.

No family man Kungtotte? Her beloved roommate, always courteous and the gentleman. They had shared many laughs and heartfelt talks about their pasts, and of Kungtotte's wife and daughter back home. Thinking about them getting the news without even a body to bury was almost enough to bring Drake to tears. _He's a good man. They always fall first._

No _El Zorro_? Scubaman was a rascal and a pain, but also the most lovable rapscallion Drake had ever known. The laughs and jests shared together were innumerable, and their R&amp;R in Nagoya still glowed warm in Drake's memory. The man had a personality and a half, and still some left over for others. Losing him would leave a gaping hole in the outfit, as well as her heart.

And the last one. No Kilroy. Drake brought a hand up to her eyes as she tensed her body, holding the anguish at bay. Ever since the beginning of the conflict, they had hit it off as roommates. Once they'd both been assigned to the assault training program, the fun had really begun. The rambunctious, no-shits given attitude of the thirty-three year old brunette complimented Drake's more modest and held-back demeanor perfectly. Kilroy was always dragging her off on some new wild adventure, and Drake loved every one of them. She had never had a sister; but now she knew what she had been missing all these years.

_Oh God, Shiva, Brahma and every one of you assholes up there, don't take her from me. Not her. _Clenching her teeth together, Drake gripped at her head. The clang of the hangar bay doors above brought her back to the moment as she jerked to an upright position. The female voice on the PA system announced for all personnel to stand clear of the landing pad, and only the hand of Orgun on her shoulder held Drake from jumping off.

The aircraft descended, and the time it took for it to reach the landing pad had never seemed so long to Drake. Holding her breath, she stared at the craft with wide eyes. She couldn't breathe. As the Skyranger's wheels finally touched the landing pad, Orgun lifted his hand from her shoulder and Drake was away, vaulting off the rail.

The ramp begun to lower, and Drake stared with keen eyes. Hitting the ground, she fell forwards in a small tumble. Never stopping her movement, she dashed towards the Skyranger, eyes glued on the lowering ramp. Coming to a halt by the landing pad, she felt a sickening twist in the pit of her stomach. The wait would soon be over, and she would know. For better or for worse. The ramp crashed onto the hangar bay floor, and Drake bathed in the fluorescent lights from inside. Then everything broke into action.

It all came rushing at her as if in slow motion. The paramedics wheeling out Kungtotte, an oxygen mask on the sniper's face and life support machinery beeping frantically. A second set of paramedics bringing out Scubaman. The Latino sported a horrific gash across his chest, festering with pus and reeking acrid vapors everywhere. He was positively screaming a litany of curses in a mixture of English and Spanish, no doubt making Mother Mary pale somewhere in the heavens.

Behind them, Medve limped down the ramp, supported by the tiny frame of Renzol. Hypergeek and Hunterhr had their arms slung over each other's shoulders, with Daishi leaning in-between them from behind, smiling widely as she wrapped her arms around the two men. Drake felt a panic rise in her mind as her eyes searched the Skyranger for its final inhabitant.

From behind all of them, a true sight for sore eyes emerged. Covered in blood, vomit, goo, plasma burns and outsider remnants, a screaming, flailing, and without-a-doubt living human missile charged Drake.

Kilroy launched herself from the Skyranger ramp, striking Drake mid-air and straight in the chest. Screaming wildly, Drake tried to maintain her balance. Failing spectacularly, the two of them ended up in a sprawl of female assault on the hangar bay floor. Kilroy was screaming, Drake was screaming. Kilroy was laughing, Drake was laughing. Winning the no-contest wrestling match, Kilroy rose to her knees astride Drake and pumped her fists in the air, throwing her head backwards.

"NO FATALITIES BABY!" special operative Kilroy yelled, and the hangar bay responded with an explosion of cheers, applause and laughter. Feeling the stress finally leave her body, Drake let herself go limp as she laid her head down on the hangar bay floor. Kilroy grinned down at her, and Drake took in the scenery around the hall.

Renzol was squeezed in-between Cell and Medve as the South African greeted her friends. DSM was shuffling down the stairs, with Vherid already grabbing Daishi into an embrace. Orgun was walking down the stairs with a smile, looking at Drake and Kilroy. And all around her, the cheers and laughter of the XCOM personnel filled the hangar bay.

It was a good day to be alive.

* * *

Author's note: Thank you so much to everyone who has joined in for the ride over the last month and a half. With this chapter, Alive and Impossible breaks 100 000 words (whaaaa-) and total views have hit 45k some time ago. Whether you're a story follower on the site, a regular reviewer or just someone stopping by every once in a while, I want to extend my thanks to all of you. I wouldn't be writing this if it wasn't for you reading.

As I hit this chapter that started it all as a simple youtube comment, the time for change has come. I won't go into detail here, but expect less frequent uploads as I drop the chapter-per-episode format and try to go for longer, better and more cohesive stories. If you want details, check out the blog I posted over at vesmolol()tumblr()com

Once again, thanks for reading, and see you around the base on future installments of Alive and Impossible!

-vesmo


	53. Chapter 53: Day as a Dumpling

Chapter 53: Day as a Dumpling

Episodes 52-54

Author's note: No, you didn't miss chapter 52. Chapter 10.5 screwed up the numbering of how the site keeps track of chapters, so I'm correcting for that now seeing how the youtube episode numbers won't be matching the chapter numbers anyway.

* * *

It was another restless night for Captain Awo as he tossed and turned in his bunk. His room in the officer's quarters was chilly, but that didn't stop the sheets from bunching up around him in a sweaty, tangled mess as he looked for a more comfortable position. The beeping of the alarm clock came all too soon as he was stirred awake from his nightmare.

The dream had been the same every night for a while now. He would be doing endless paperwork in his office when suddenly, the whole outfit would be in the small room with him. He was supposed to be giving a shooting presentation, but all he had was a stack of papers in hand, sitting on his chair stark naked. Merlin and the rest of the women would leer at him, and the commander would just shake his head as he ordered Awo out on an operation. He would lead the sniggering squad of people out just like that, naked as the day he had been born to this world.

Getting up to a sitting position with a groan, Awo buried his face in his hands. _Every day with this shit in my life, _the man thought to himself despondently. Taking a moment, he swayed on the edge of his bed. The desire to say fuck it all and dive back into the sheets crossed his mind, but it was ultimately futile. Sleep was hard enough to come by anyway.

With Captain Medve and Lieutenant Scubaman out injured, the remaining officers in the outfit had their work cut out for them. Awo was constantly amazed by how easily Lieutenant Van Doorn managed his doubled workload. The man had been a UN general and of course possessed immense amounts of experience, but that still didn't stop the feelings of jealousy and astonishment from rearing their ugly heads.

_Just make him the captain. I'd gladly be an NCO again, _Awo mused as he got on with his morning routine. Push-ups, stretching and shower followed each other as the exercise and cool water eventually shook most of the melancholy off. The officer's break room was silent and empty as Van Doorn was no doubt raking in the remaining sweet, sweet minutes of sleep there were left in the morning. Wondering to himself how the old man managed everything with how long he slept and how much he seemed to lounge around every day, Awo cooked up a breakfast for himself.

It was a big day indeed. Awo was on duty, but that didn't stop the brass from piling job after job on him. Normally he would've been off training duties, but the higher-ups still hadn't managed to sort out the gaps in schedule left by Medve's and Scubaman's injuries. The morning was dominated by advanced overwatch training for the lower ranking infantrymen while the afternoon was capped off by laser rifle handling for junior operatives, one of the classes that used to belong to Scubaman. But it was the time after lunch between those training sessions that made the day special.

The newly engineered carapace armor would be taken into active duty today and the senior operatives would be giving a presentation on the equipment's capabilities. As to why they had assigned Awo to it, he couldn't tell. He wanted to think positively of it, that it was a nod to his skills and that's why he had been chosen for the shooting presentation. But with his already busy schedule, it just seemed like a pain in the ass.

_I'm in charge of the training that follows, too. Fucking hell. _He had already chosen the trainers out of the NCO's, but he still had to organize everything, manage the paperwork and handle the stress. Silently praying there would be an operation today to get his mind off things, Awo cleaned up in the kitchenette of the break room before getting on with the morning's schedule.

The training advanced smoothly as he guided Volatile, Jive and even the recently recovered Ratamacue through the exercises. There was a lot of room for improvement, but Volatile was definitely showing a lot of promise. Her recent promotion to sergeant had been well deserved.

As morning turned to noon, Awo sent the trainees out with curt words of encouragement. Dropping his training gear off, he made his way to the cafeteria to grab some lunch before the carapace presentation. The paramilitary outfit's eating schedule was quite free form; there was no room-by-room organization to the process, but rather a set time range when one could get lunch and dinner. Lunchtime was from 11 am to 1 pm, and Awo had ended the exercise early in hopes of getting a quiet meal in before the rush hour.

The cafeteria was indeed mostly empty, with only a few operatives sitting at the long tables. Grabbing a tray, Awo went along the line at the counter, piling a hefty amount of mashed potatoes and pork stew on his plate. With his lunch gathered, he walked to the corner of the large room, hoping to avoid any unnecessary socialization.

Halfway through his meal, Awo spotted Drake enter the cafeteria. The assault quickly filled her tray up and headed straight for Awo's corner in a brisk pace. The captain let out a groan as he suspected what the woman's business with him was.

"Heya, Dumpling", Drake spoke her greeting as she sat down across the table from him. The nickname was courtesy of Merlin, and one that Awo didn't take too kindly to. For Drake to be using it intentionally spoke volumes of her displeasure with him.

Looking up from his meal, Awo muttered a half-hearted greeting in response. He wasn't looking forward to the conversation at all. Things had been difficult with his old room to say the least, ever since the falling out with Merlin at the shooting range.

Drake leaned over without touching her food, getting straight to the point. "You haven't been visiting Kilroy or Medve." Her voice was sharp and judging, and Awo groaned as his suspicions were proven correct.

"It's just… I've been busy. You have no idea of the workload I'm under!" The response had seemed completely reasonable and absolutely, one hundred percent true in his mind, but as it left his lips Awo realized just how feeble and defensive it sounded. Drake regarded him with a doubtful look, clearly not convinced.

"Is it because of Merlin?" Awo groaned again as Drake hit the nail on the head. The two women had been visiting Kilroy every evening and Awo had made a point of not going. It just seemed easier to avoid the hot-headed Mexican instead of running into her in what could be a ballistic encounter in a place that absolutely didn't need the commotion.

Awo didn't even know where the whole mess with Merlin had come from. They'd gotten along great in the early months of the conflict. The ribbing had been there, sure, but Awo had taken it like a man and even delivered some of his own. They'd always had a blast during the drills as they came through the infantry training program alongside Frag, and the inhabitants of room A had lived in peace.

Now that Awo thought about it, the change had begun around the time Foogleman had died. Merlin had started smoking again, and the woman seemed to be on edge all of the time. As time had passed, her good-natured ribbing had turned into something resembling more domestic abuse than anything else. Things had gotten to the point where Awo had actually started to wonder whether the woman was a real-life sadist. And the way he had taken it all without putting up a fight for the longest time probably made him the masochist.

"Houston to Awo, come in?" Drake's slightly amused inquiry brought him back to the moment. There was little use to pretending the woman hadn't been right anymore and Awo responded with a sigh.

"What do you want, Drake?" he asked in a defeated tone, shoveling a good amount of mashed potatoes and pork into his mouth. His appetite seemed to have disappeared into the ether. _So much for a quiet and peaceful lunch._

Drake leaned back and started buttering her sandwich. "Kungtotte's getting out of the ICU today. It's about time you paid your comrades a visit. Your FRIENDS a visit." Drake's voice was uncharacteristically hard as she glanced up from the task at hand, continuing the quite one-sided conversation, "I'll tell Merlin to behave herself if that's what it takes."

Awo groaned for the third time, feeling like a little kid being lectured by his mother. "It's not… that's not… you don't need to…" his response died down as he stumbled over the words. Conceding defeat and swallowing his pride, Awo lifted his arms up. "Fine! I'm coming. Right after the day's training."

"Kungtotte's getting out at 1800 hours", Drake informed him, her voice softer now with a tint of amusement to it.

Awo exclaimed in frustration, throwing his arms wider. "1800 hours, okay! I'm coming to the medbay at 1800 hours to see Kilroy, Medve and Kungtotte. Is that what you want to hear?"

Drake let out a heartfelt laugh, causing a tiny smile to rise to Awo's lips. She was quite probably the glue holding their old room together, and Awo couldn't be mad at her for doing that.

Getting on with their lunch, the two friends exchanged pleasantries. It really had been quite some time since Awo had socialized with his friends and chatting with Drake was a breath of fresh air in his busy life. He shared some stories of Van Doorn's exploits in the officer's quarters, and Drake spoke of her feelings on the upcoming covert operation. She would be deploying tonight, though to where, she couldn't tell. The details of the covert operations were kept a secret from everyone who didn't need to know. It was all very cloak and daggers and quite frankly, made Awo feel uncomfortable. He couldn't believe they were fighting human beings amidst the alien war. As a former police officer, he had seen a lot of fucked up shit in the past. But this whole business with EXALT was beyond fucked up.

With lunch done, Awo bid Drake good-bye as the captain headed towards his office to get some paperwork done before the business with the carapace armor presentation. It was a cramped little box at the end of the officer's quarters with a considerable stack of papers sitting on the desk.

_I better get some coffee if I'm to do this_, he thought to himself as the pile of black-on-white taunted him. The good spirits from meeting with Drake were already fading away as Awo headed for the officer's break room.

* * *

"Operatives of XCOM, it is my pleasure to present to you the newest in our battlefield personal defense systems; the carapace armor!"

Quartermaster Ryder stepped to the side, letting the people in the cavern feast their eyes on the piece of armor standing in a display case of safety glass as the curtains pulled away. Murmurs filled the air as the crowd shuffled about, everyone trying to get a good look at the new piece of gear.

"This is fucking ridiculous", Awo complained behind the screens towards the back of the cave. He was wearing the new armor alongside Daishi, Drake, Morgan and Renzol. Daishi and Morgan tittered at the man's comment while Drake shook her head disapprovingly.

"It's good for the morale, captain", the senior assault mused with a grin, drawing only a scoff out of Awo. Peeking out from behind the screen, Awo looked on at the clown show.

They were currently in the midst of showing off the armor's damage threshold. A high-powered laser was trained at the alloy suit as the red beam of energy left scorch marks along its surface. Quartermaster Ryder was a perky little Japanese woman and her voice carried clear in the air as she explained the new suit's capabilities.

"The new suits can take over twice the amount of abuse as your standard issue kevlar vests and flak jackets. It is especially tempered to handle the burns of plasma-based weaponry that have proven to be such a huge problem for conventional armor systems." The woman paused for a moment as the operatives marveled at the undamaged suit of armor as the laser easily ripped through one of the standard issue flak jackets next to it.

Continuing her explanation, the Quartermaster's voice was sharp, "However, this doesn't mean you can just run out there and facecheck a muton's plasma rifle. As always, exercise extreme caution on the field. Carapace armor is capable of saving your life, but it doesn't make you indestructible. This concludes the first part of our presentation."

"Now I've been told there have been a lot of concerns over the impact these heavier armor systems are going to have over your capability to perform basic battlefield actions." The Quartermaster's words were followed by mumbles and nods of agreement. JBowles had been one of the main skeptics when it came to the carapace armor; he was convinced it would get in the way when firing rockets.

Pacing across the glass cage, Quartermaster Ryder came to a halt in front of the obstacle course next to it. It was an exact replica of the one in the training center and one had to wonder just how much time and resources had been wasted in recreating it down here. The course ran from the front of the crowd to the back of the cavern before looping back, featuring walls, hurdles and monkey bars. All of the usual suspects.

"Technical Sergeant Daishi will be giving you a presentation on the overall impact carapace will have on your mobility on the field", the quartermaster spoke in a bright tone, summoning Daishi from behind the screen. The scout was smiling widely as she strode over to the front of the crowd, throwing up a salute for both the crowd and the quartermaster. Taking her place at the front of the course, she braced herself for the exercise.

"Ready, set, go!" Ryder's words sent Daishi away as she made her way through the obstacle course. Sliding down low on all fours, she scampered under and vaulted over the hurdles. The operatives muttered in surprised tones as the scout flew across the course, scaling the walls quickly and swinging across the monkey bars with ease.

As Daishi hit the finish line at the front of the crowd, Quartermaster Ryder checked her stopwatch and let out a small laugh. "Minute forty-two. Beat your old record by two seconds, tech sergeant." The quartermaster's words caused the surprised mutters to intensify, some people in the crowd exclaiming in disbelief.

"Hardly broke a sweat!" Daishi yelled triumphantly, panting hard as she caught her breath from the exercise.

Ryder turned back towards the crowd, grinning at the confused operatives. With a glimmer in her eye, she revealed the secret to Daishi's feat, "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I forget to tell you people that a suit of carapace is 0.5 kilograms lighter than our standard issue kevlar vests and flak jackets?"

The quartermaster's words sparked a massive uproar of denials and exclamations of surprise from the crowd. "You're shittin' me! You're absolutely shittin' me!" JBowles cried out as the crowd's surprise and disbelief turned into cheers and laughter. The quartermaster was grinning widely with a sparkle of laughter twinkling in her eyes. Holding her notepad to her uniformed chest, she waited for the crowd's reaction to die down.

"Sorry, should've led with that. My bad", she muttered, thoroughly pleased with herself. Turning to the next attraction, she led the group of operatives to the fighting ring that had been set up on the cavern floor. Raising her voice, she summoned Technical Sergeant Drake and Sergeant Morgan for the martial arts presentation.

The two assaults were wearing tactical vests over the armor itself, and their legs were covered by padded plating that allowed them to move freely despite the protective sheets of alien alloys. The fight was ceremonial for the most part; pure effectiveness and the usual cut-throat behavior of close combat training were replaced by fancy roundhouse kicks and showboating. The fight intensified towards the end, with Drake dashing in under Morgan's guard and throwing the former marine to the ground.

Awo watched on from his place behind the screen as the fight between the two assaults drew to a close. He was anxious to get out there and play his part in this farce already. As Quartermaster Ryder called upon him for the shooting presentation, Awo strode out briskly to the shooting range set up at the edge of the cavern.

Taking his place in front of the crowd, Awo returned the operatives' salute with a hasty one of his own. Without further ceremonies he turned towards the range, standing astride in front of the table with his laser rifle raised.

The targets sprung up one by one and precise shots from his rifle burned holes into their chests, dropping them back into the ground. The moving targets at the back had no better luck against the captain. As he reached for another energy cell on the table, Awo realized just how much pent-up aggression had built up inside of him over the past weeks. Slamming the cell into his weapon, he raised the stakes.

The next target fell with a hole burnt into its head as did the next one, and the next one. Gritting his teeth, Awo lost himself in the flow as he nailed every single target with perfect accuracy. Slamming home another energy cell, he jerked the muzzle of the rifle around as he waited for the next target to come up.

"Ummm, Captain Awo? That's the end of the presentation, sir", Ryder spoke tentatively, causing Awo to come back to the moment. Emptying his weapon, he powered down the laser rifle and turned towards the quartermaster, giving her and the crowd the slightest of nods.

"Check in at my office after Renzol's presentation for your training schedules. Now if you'll all excuse me, I have a shit load of work to get to." Without further ado, Awo strode through the crowd of operatives as he left the cavern. He glimpsed a concerned Drake on the edge of the crowd, and a mocking Merlin whispering something to one of the junior operatives. Shaking his head, Awo pushed through the gap in the blast doors and into the metallic corridors of the base.

Dropping off his carapace armor and laser rifle at the arsenal, Awo hurried once more into his office as he prepared for the flood of operatives that would be coming in soon enough. Wondering once again what he had done to deserve this fate, he got on with the paperwork.

The rest of the afternoon went by quickly as Captain Awo had no time to stop and wonder 'why me'. Pavehawk, Panzerskank, Amineri, Petete and Prowler with Hypergeek. Wootastic, Volatile, Jive, JBowles and AlexD with Renzol. The list went on as the operatives filed into his office and the coffee mug drained itself all too quickly. And as soon as the schedules were all distributed and the first set of questions by the instructors sorted out, it was already time for the next class.

Teaching a set of rookies how to handle a laser rifle wasn't exactly Awo's idea of a task worthy of a captain. As he eyed the set of people before him, he had a growing suspicion as to why Scubaman had wanted to teach the class in the first place. Amineri, Panzerskank, Cameron, DoctorSheep. A lot of female operatives in the new batch of rookies. A lot of _cute_ female operatives, with the Brazilian vision Amineri especially catching Awo's eye. The whole thing reeked of Scubaman's lechery, and Awo made a mental note to discuss the possibility of delegating the class away to someone else with the brass later.

The drill dragged on as Awo had been late to begin the exercise in the first place. With the rookies finally sent off to dinner, the captain groaned as he realized it was already almost 1800 hours. Heading off to the cafeteria to grab a quick dinner before the promised meeting in the medbay, Awo wondered how he would ever get all of the work done.

The thought of another late night in the office followed by restless sleep drove the captain's mood into the pits. _All I need is one night. Just one goddamn night without work,_ Awo thought to himself, utterly discouraged.

_Get it together. No fucking way I'm giving Merlin the satisfaction of seeing me a shitty fucking mess like this._ Trying to motivate himself, Awo hurriedly chomped down his dinner before heading straight for the medbay.

Sliding the glass door aside, Awo's senses were assaulted by the smell of disinfectants and the bright lights of fluorescent lamps. Burncycle lay in a bed at the far end of the medbay, the scout having suffered a point-blank shot from a thin man earlier this week. Wolfer was nowhere to be seen, leaving Kilroy and Medve the only other patients currently in the room.

"Hey you big pile of shit! Why haven't you brought me chocolate already?" Kilroy's good-spirited shout drew a smile to Awo's lips as he headed for the assault's bedside. Merlin and Drake were standing on the other side of her bed as the injured woman struggled to an upright position against the pillows. The EKG on her bedside was beeping in sync with Medve's, and a drip hanging from its rack steadily injected plasma and medicinal fluids into her system.

Awo nodded his greeting at Medve as he strode past the man's bed, coming to a halt in-between the two operatives' resting places. Grinning at the resilient woman, Awo responded in kind, "No chocolate for your fat ass. I've been busy."

Kilroy gave a snort of contempt before the mischievous glimmer in her eye was replaced with a look of affection. Raising her fist up to Awo, the captain and gunnery sergeant touched knuckles. "It's good to see your sorry ass every once in a while", Kilroy muttered, the edge from her words gone for the moment.

As they waited for Kungtotte's delayed discharge from the ICU, Awo was glad Drake had convinced him to come. Catching up with Kilroy and Medve on the troop ship mission and sharing some of the news from the officer's quarters made the time fly by quickly. Even Merlin seemed to behave herself, though it was more due to her silent sulking and complete avoidance of Awo rather than any real discretion.

After fifteen minutes or so the doors to the ICU swung open as a nurse strode in, pushing Kungtotte's bed ahead of her. Applause and cheers from the small group of operatives filled the medbay as the wounded sniper grinned at his friends. His EKG was beeping steadily and combined with the drip and nasal cannula, he looked like a real mess. Kilroy and co. let him know as much, and the reserved sniper took the friendly ribbing in stride, smiling and laughing quietly at the banter.

Setting the man's bed next to Kilroy's, the nurse playfully reprimanded the soldiers, instructing them not to be too hard on the recovering man. Drake assured her they would behave themselves, drawing an amused look from the nurse.

"Just make sure you don't break anything, Drake." Her words incited laughs from the operatives as Drake took the gibe gracefully. She had spent a lot of time in the medbay and had become familiar with the medical personnel. Her little outburst from her fourth and currently last stint in had become somewhat of a legend, and the nurses and doctors liked to remind her of it every once in a while.

Merlin and Drake brought Kungtotte up to speed on the goings-on in the base as the denizens of room A were finally reunited. Scubaman would still be held in the ICU for an undetermined amount of time; the man's wound had refused to close and would still require multiple gene therapy sessions.

A grin spread on Drake's face as she exchanged a look with Merlin. With a small cough, she took the attention of the rest of the group. "Well, seeing as you'll be spending quite a bit of time here, we thought you should have something to keep you company", Drake's voice brimmed with excitement as she leaned down to grab the paper bag on the floor. From within, she produced a jar of Thin Mint cookies and a stack of letters.

"You seemed to be running a bit low, so we got you a new jar all the way back from the States", Drake explained with a smile, handing the jar and letters to Kungtotte. The sniper smiled at the gesture, accepting the stack of letters from home with gentle hands.

Turning to look at his smiling friends, Kungtotte spoke in a soft voice, "Thank you, everyone. Drake, Merlin, Awo. Thank you."

Merlin fidgeted around a little, glancing at the wall from under her brow. In a disgruntled tone, she muttered, "Actually, he didn't have anything-", her complaint was cut short by a pained grunt as Drake shoved an elbow into her side.

"You're welcome, Thinmint. It's the least we could do", Drake beamed at the man, ignoring the foul look Merlin was giving her.

Awo watched on with amusement. He didn't really care either way whether he got credit for the small gesture or not, but seeing Merlin squirm was always welcome.

The PA system on the wall came to life with a ding, followed by the female voice of the announcer, "Strike-1, report to the operation room. Code 3-B. Repeat, Strike-1, report to the operation room. Code 3-B."

The people in the room had turned to regard the speaker on the wall and as the announcement died down, all eyes turned to Awo. The captain gave his chin a little rub as he pondered on the announcement. _3-B, huh. Landed medium?_

Grinning as he regarded the other operatives in the medbay, Awo informed them in a smug voice, "I told you I'm a busy man, didn't I? See you later." Turning around, he strode out of the room, an excitement building up inside of him.

_Post-op drinks and mandatory days off, here I come!_ Awo let out a small laugh as he headed towards the operation room for briefing; maybe he would finally catch a break.

* * *

The Skyranger took off into the night sky, drowning out the stars and the moon as its figure passed under them. Eight dark shadows spread out into the forest, the faint red glow of their laser weaponry the only light below the canopy of the forest.

Awo looked through the night vision visor of his new carapace helmet. The shadows of the forest were displayed in shades of grainy green, and it wasn't long after their landing when movement in the shadows caught his eye.

"Contact!" the captain yelled his warning as the seekers on patrol approached the site of the landing. Awo's vision flashed a brilliant white as one of the seeker's fired, drawing a surprised grunt from Instinct. The response from Strike-1 was immediate; red lasers cut apart the dark veil of the night followed by an explosion of pure green energy as Hypergeek unleashed one of his alien grenades upon the enemy.

_One,_ the captain kept count in his head. Two hits out of three; not bad considering the evasive nature of the seeker. Signaling to his squad, Awo quickly led them across the trench to their left and into the dense forest beyond. The UFO had landed over the hill before them, and he would much rather approach the alien craft under the cover of the forest than along the trench, under the light of the moon and the stars. As the squad reached a satisfactory defensive position, Awo ordered them to a stop as Hunterhr tended to Instinct.

Daishi moved up behind one of the large spruces. Tossing a BattleScanner out, the scout surveyed the ground in front of them. Cell and Renzol set up behind one of the overturned logs as Iku looked for a good spot at the squad's rear. The night was eerily calm as Awo enjoyed the cool Canadian air on his cheeks and neck. He would take this over the paperwork any day.

"How is he?" the captain inquired as Hunterhr joined up with him. Instinct was already on his way to join Daishi in the vanguard.

"Impact didn't break the armor. I sprayed some ointment into the bruise below, patched up the burnt alloys with emergency hardener. Should be fine", the medic spoke matter-of-factly. Awo nodded his approval and joined Daishi and Instinct at the front.

Leading his squad on, Awo listened intently for any chitter on the wind, rustles in the leaves. The forest was quiet, almost too quiet. _All contact inside the UFO? _The captain mused to himself as he led the squad up to the top of the hill.

The otherworldly glow of the alien craft's doorways and force fields shed light on the surrounding terrain. Pine trees and spruces reached for the skies around the landing site, with some of the tree tops and larger branches having snapped off as the UFO came down in the middle of the forest. The ship was located across a deep trench from Strike-1's current location. Signaling for his people to take position on the hill, Awo waited for the enemy to show up.

The enemy never came. The craft seemed almost abandoned as the low humming of its machinery filled the chilly night air. Taking Daishi's attention, Awo gestured for her to dash across the trench and scout up ahead. The tall blonde acknowledged the order, taking off from behind her log with scatter laser raised.

Daishi scampered down the hillside, her combat boots sending small pebbles rolling down into the trench. As she reached the crack in earth between the hills, she crouched down and hurriedly made her way to the left along the ravine, away from the main door of the UFO. Climbing up on the other side, the scout pressed herself up against the dirt wall, peeking out to survey the alien craft from close range. Turning back towards Awo, she signaled the coast was clear.

"Renzol, Iku, cover us from here. If we make it across without contact, follow after. Rest of you, form up on me. We're closing in." Awo's words were confident as the squad clad in their new alloy armor followed him down the hillside, sliding and scrambling for foothold. Dashing across the trench, they reunited with Daishi right next to the UFO.

The squad climbed over the bank of dirt as they took cover on the trees mere meters from the force field covering the corner of the alien craft. Daishi snuck her way left, crouched behind the small trees and bushes of the undergrowth while Renzol and Hypergeek headed for the main door on the right. Awo hit a button on the side of his helmet, and the night vision visor receded back into the headpiece. The glow of the UFO's force field provided more than enough illumination.

Strike-1 burst into action as Daishi yelled her warning from their left. A solitary outsider stepped into the narrow doorway behind the force field. Not giving the alien a chance to fire its carbine, the combined laser arms of Earth's finest released a veritable barrage of high energy at the doorway. The pilot of the ship recoiled from the searing impacts, taking cover behind the wall as Cell's autolaser spewed suppressive fire towards it.

"Move up! Breach the craft!" Awo yelled, causing the squad to break from their cover. Cell stepped out from behind her tree, steadily walking towards the doorway while continuing to pin the enemy down. Daishi and Instinct moved up on either side of the opening, scatter lasers readied. As soon as the suppressive fire died down, they dashed inside.

On the right, Renzol had moved up to the main door with Hypergeek right behind her. Awo headed towards the pair of operatives as Instinct's shout carried over from the UFO; Dorito down. _Aren't there two of these things on mediums? _Awo thought to himself, slightly concerned as he reached the other breaching team.

Inside the UFO, things were heating up. Instinct cursed loudly as a seeker darted in from the shadows, releasing sizzling hot plasma at the assault from close-range, throwing him against the wall. Struggling to an upright position, the man recoiled as a barrage from Cell's autolaser punched past him, scorching the mechanical flier to a husk.

"They're there! Shredder to the middle!" Hypergeek yelled as he held the BattleScanner around the corner of the main doorway. Renzol slammed in a shredder rocket as she breached danger close; everyone inside the UFO ducked their heads down behind whatever cover they had as the rocket launcher let out its signature blast. Shrapnel filled the entry hall of the alien craft as two seekers materialized out of thin air, smoke and sparks filling the air around them.

Daishi and Instinct pushed in from the corridor on the left, charging at the aliens with scatter lasers held high. Two blasts of high energy, two destroyed seekers. A warning rang through the interior of the ship as another seeker squirmed in from the shadows, drawing a surprised yelp out of Daishi as the plasma buried into her shoulder. The scout responded in kind, and another squid dropped from the air.

Renzol finally shouldered her launcher and ran across the main doorway of the UFO, making space for Awo. Taking the corner, the captain peeked inside. A solitary drone came flying in from the corridor to the right, its maintenance beam glancing harmlessly over Instinct's carapace. The robot crashed and burned as Cell spun up her weapon on the left, and the battle seemed to be over.

A solitary sectoid peeked out from around the corner down the hallway to the right, sending a tentative blast of green energy towards the breaching squad. Awo brought his rifle on target as he glanced the small gray man, causing it to recoil away from his sights. Right after, the little alien bolted across the doorway, seeking sanctuary in the middle of the ship. _Two down,_ Captain Awo thought to himself as he found his mark.

"Secure the left! There's still one outsider left!" Awo ordered as the rest of the squad pushed into the UFO. Daishi and Cell headed to secure the doorway on the left while Awo led Hypergeek and Instinct down the right.

Slamming the button on the side of the door, Daishi caused the energy field to recede. A yell of surprise left her lips as plasma fire from inside the power wing of the alien craft greeted the two women, burying solidly into Cell's stomach, yet unable to penetrate the carapace armor. The gunner grunted in surprise, pulling the throttle on her autolaser.

The barrage of lasers crashed into the outsider, rising high in the glow of the elerium power source. The last of the lasers skimmed the edge of the ceiling as Daishi attempted to finish the creature off.

"You're fucking kidding me!" Cell cried in dismay as the scout fired her scatter laser at the creature, striking only the alloy wall next to it. Just as the alien was about to bring down another hail of energy on the gunner, a singular laser fizzed past the women, burying into the outsider and exploding it into dust and shrapnel.

Iku was standing in the entry hall of the UFO, sniper rifle raised and a thoroughly self-satisfied grin on his face. "Come on, you can thank me later", the man muttered as he ran up to the female operatives, signaling for them to take point.

On the other side, Awo was leading the battle against the gray defenders of the UFO. One of them lay in a collapsed heap on the power room floor, courtesy of Instinct. Another one dashed into the XCOM-held room, only to end up in the same pile as Awo buried a laser into its cranium. _That's three._

"Denizens of the UFO! This is Officer Awo of XCOM. Come out with your hands raised above your head, and nobody needs to get hurt!" Wild laughter bubbled under the surface as Awo knew the battle was drawing to a close. It looked like he would indeed get some respite after all.

A sectoid came running through the doorway into the power room, almost like it knew what the captain was saying. The alien was driven on by laser fire from across the control room and Awo quickly shouted the order to hold fire as he signaled for Hypergeek to move in. The engineer jumped up, bringing the arc thrower to bear on the fleeing alien.

_Fuck me the electricity,_ a panicked thought flashed to Awo's mind as the sectoid moved towards the glowing elerium power source. Hypergeek took aim and tendrils of high-voltage electricity shot out of the taser, past the power source and into the little gray man's body. The sectoid whimpered and spasmed as it collapsed next to the volatile energy source, the green glow of elerium illuminating its twitching eyelids.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Awo moved up against the wall of the control room. Giving Instinct the signal, the assault tossed a flashbang in through the doorway. The flash soon followed, and the squad stormed in.

"Put the gun down!" The police officer in him came to life as Awo pointed his rifle at the solitary sectoid huddled against the wall. A laser from Instinct's pistol glanced the alien in its arm, drawing a pitiful squeal out of the small humanoid. "Show me your hands!" Officer Awo yelled as he loomed over the creature, a circle forming around the alien.

A jolt of electricity ran through the air and into the small alien, causing it to flinch into the corner. Hypergeek let out a cuss as he fiddled with the arc thrower, setting the dials for a new capture attempt. "What the hell are you doing, Whiskey? Take him down, he's a threat. Do it now, officer!" Awo's voice was stern and hard as he gave the orders, but under the surface he was having the time of his life.

The engineer brought the arc thrower on target once again as the sectoid stole a glimpse at its assaulters. Electricity shot into the creature once again, drawing a whimper out of the small alien before the spark died down.

"_Merde!_ She's out of juice, captain!" the engineer informed, drawing groans and cusses from the operatives circling the sectoid.

Awo brought the muzzle of his laser rifle down on the head of the creature. "Get down on the floor! GET DOWN RIGHT NOW!" the alien complied, sinking onto the floor of the craft with its limbs spread. Quiet, wet rattling noises left its throat as it breathed heavily on the ground.

Captain Awo straightened his back, taking a glance around the squad. Daishi was looking at the sectoid with eyes one might give a wounded puppy, and many others were shuffling their feet uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact. Turning to Hypergeek, Awo gave the man an intense stare, "What do you mean, she's out of juice?"

Hypergeek gave a small gesture with his hand, not taking his eyes off the sectoid huddled on the ground. "She needs to be recharged, captain. I didn't bring an extra battery."

Awo groaned in frustration, turning back to look at the sectoid. The little gray man's eyes were fixed on the ground as it breathed heavily. They jerked for a moment, and Awo knew he had just met its gaze despite the lack of pupils on the small creature.

"Keep an eye on him!" Awo ordered as he strode away from the squad, bringing a hand up to the communication device on his helmet. Contacting central, he waited for further orders.

The exhilaration and fun of the breach had died down, replaced with the all too familiar frustration. Listening to the orders, Awo shook his head in disbelief.

Turning back to the squad, Captain Awo strode over to Hunterhr. "Give me your sidearm, sergeant", he spoke in a cold tone. The medic regarded him with serious eyes as he complied, slipping the ballistic pistol from its holster. Accepting the weapon, Awo flicked the safety off.

A single gunshot rang inside the UFO as the sectoid's brains spilled all over the floor. Offering the weapon back to Hunterhr, Awo shook his head. "Secure the area. Renzol, you're in charge", the captain muttered as he headed outside for fresh air and debriefing.

_Four-fucking-down. Every day of my life with this shit. Every goddamn motherfucking day of my life with this goddamn shit._


	54. Chapter 54: Man in the Machine

Chapter 54: Man in the Machine

Episodes 55-56

"From death, life rises anew. From the husks of our fallen enemies, the tools of War shall be created against them."

-_Platitudes of the creatively impaired_

* * *

The production line down in engineering was filled with hustle and bustle as the latest project was about to be completed. Personnel ferried over equipment for the finalization of project Goliath. HEAT ammo module, reinforced alloy belt, superheavy laser. With the last of the gear attached onto its metal frame, Goliath-1 rolled out of the production line, ready for field deployment.

"Well I'll be! Ain't she just a real beaut, huh? Wanna take her for a ride?" The engineer's words rang cocky in the workshop. Another man clad in overalls and a hard hat shook his head in disapproval.

"It's not a goddamn R/C car, Babbles. It's going straight for combat testing", the second engineer replied, drawing a scoff out of his colleague.

"It's a real cryin' shame. We make all the cool stuff and it's dem damned jarheads that get to play with 'em", Babbles complained, tipping his hard hat back as he inspected the alloy SHIV.

It was a true masterpiece of engineering. The treads were strong and flexible, capable of scaling objects up to the SHIV's height. The chassis of the infantry vehicle itself was around one meter in height, made of strong and thick alien alloys allowing for a human combatant to take cover behind the machine. Remote controlled, it was the perfect mobile weapons platform to provide extra protection for the soldiers of XCOM on the field.

Babbles leaned in closer, admiring the XCOM sigil on the side and the masterful work that had gone into crafting the detachable modules and the sturdy chassis. "Man, dem grunts really should be grateful. First the 'rapace and now lil' ol' Gollie here. We be lookin' out for them, yo." The other engineer, Jacen, shook his head as he resumed working on his clipboard.

The superheavy laser attached to the alloy SHIV's firing port sparked up for a moment, a glimmer of red emanating from within the powered-down weapon. Babbles let out a cry of dismay as he stumbled backwards, the hard hat clattering off his head as the engineer fell flat on his ass.

"What? What is it?" Jacen queried, equal measures worried and amused. He regarded his colleague with suspicious eyes as the man pointed at Goliath-1, his lips trembling as he looked for the words.

"The lazer, man! The lazer turned on!" the rattled engineer babbled frantically, a shaky finger pointed at the machine.

Jacen gave his temple below the hard hat a scratch, regarding the man and the machine doubtfully. "I don't know about that. Seems fine to me", he uttered skeptically.

Babbles straightened his back on the ground, wheeling his finger around to point at his friend. "I know what I saw, man. Lazer turned on. Fuckin' Skynet up in dis bitch, tried to fry me to a crisp it did!"

Rolling his eyes, Jacen paced his way over to the alloy SHIV. Leaning in to inspect the machine closer, he checked the connections of the superheavy laser. "Everything's as it should be. Somebody from remote control is just messing with you, jackass. Or maybe there was a feedback of electricity in the circuitry", he mused, turning away from the SHIV and regarding the man still sitting on the ground.

Babbles had a distrusting look in his eyes as he got up, patting down his backside as he did so. "Whatever, man. Grunts can have it. Don't want nuthin' to do with it", he mumbled. Stuffing his hands in his overalls, Babbles shuffled away from the production line, leaving Jacen shaking his head in disbelief at his superstitious friend.

* * *

"How about… XSSM-3000? Short for Xeno Scum Slaying Machine-3000!"

Wootastic grinned widely as she shouted out her proposition, only to have it turned down by scoffs and snorts. The group of five operatives was gathered around the alloy SHIV in its temporary holding place in a corner of the engineering bay.

"You've got to be kidding me. What are you, ten?" Merlin laughed, causing an exaggerated pout to appear on the engineer's face. Letting out another laugh, the infantrywoman reached over and gave Wootastic's cheek a pinch, transforming the pout back into a grin. She was a hard one to get down.

JBowles was resting in one of the plastic chairs, one leg slung over the armrest. "How 'bout The Partybus? It's an XCOM party and an XCOM party don't stop!" The man's proposal was followed by a cheer from Wootastic and incredulous looks from Orgun and Merlin.

"JB, sometimes I wonder whether you have anything in that head of yours", Orgun muttered, drawing an exclamation of betrayal and feigned hurt from his fellow rocketeer. Orgun gave his chin a light tap as a smile rose to his lips. "How about FRAG-E?" he voiced his proposal, causing the light-hearted chatter to die down.

"Why not Fooglebot?" Merlin challenged the rocketeer, leaning over the back rest of the chair she was sitting astride on.

Orgun groaned in frustration. "Come on, Merlin. Don't do this. You know I loved Foogle just like I did Frag."

Merlin's face softened at the words, causing her to run a hand through her curly hair. Admitting defeat, the feisty Mexican spread her arms. "Fine, FRAG-E it is."

The operatives let out small cheers as they applauded the newly christened alloy SHIV. Orgun bowed his head down, a little bit humbled. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. We still need to ask the rest of the folks", he spoke with a smile.

Merlin threw her head back and barked up a small laugh. "What, are you serious? With a name like that, even the commander will be insisting formal documentation. Well played, my jolly old pal", she complimented Orgun jovially.

The recently promoted Sergeant Petete had been quietly leaning against the wall. She was clad in her trademark dirty overalls, and her shaggy hair was pulled into a loose ponytail. Pushing herself off the wall and walking over to the machine in the middle of the group, she muttered in a low voice, "FRAG-E, huh? Should I make some modifications, then?"

The operatives gave her surprised looks. Merlin raised her eyebrows, regarding the scatterbrained engineer curiously. "What do you mean?" she asked as Petete crouched down in front of the SHIV.

"I was mostly thinking a scar here. Should be easy enough to carve one with the equipment here. Harden and temper it up so it won't wear off in plasma fire." The engineer ran her fingers over the alloys surrounding the right headlight as she spoke. Frag had sported a scar over his right eye as well; he'd said it had almost cost him his life back in the day.

The operatives exchanged glances over the tomboyish engineer before Orgun spoke up, "That'd be great! But are you sure, umm, 'modifying' official gear is such a good idea, Pete?" The engineer responded only with a dismissive snort, already planning out the work as she sized up the plating with her fingers.

"Yeah, don't be such a pussy Orgun!" Merlin shouted merrily, drawing an unimpressed look out of the rocketeer. Ignoring his reaction, the infantrywoman continued in a whiny voice, "Can I come spend the evening with you, rocket boys? I'm so lonely now that Drake's out on assignment, too."

JBowles shot Orgun a worried look, shaking his head ever-so-slightly. "Sure, you're always welcome, Merlin." Orgun's response caused his fellow roommate to let out a small groan. Merlin grinned in a sinister manner, staring right at JBowles. The man squirmed in his chair, regretful he'd been caught.

"Can I come too!?" Wootastic's eager cry drew the attention of the rest of the operatives, causing JBowles to sigh in relief as Merlin averted her gaze.

Orgun laughed at the young engineer's vigor and earnestness. "Sure, Bonus. We'll dig out a deck of cards or something. We haven't really got anything planned out but everyone's welcome", he said in a friendly tone, causing Wootastic to burst into a loud cheer.

Getting up from his chair, Orgun gave his back a good stretch. "How about you, Pete? You in?" the rocketeer inquired, receiving only a wave and an absentminded mutter in response.

The rest of the operatives got up and left, their good-byes ringing on deaf ears as Petete lost herself in her work. Laying her hands on the metal chassis, she felt the machine vibrate for a brief moment.

"How odd", she muttered to herself, getting up to look for the tools she would need.


	55. Chapter 55: Dust

Chapter 55: Dust

Episodes 57-59

The eastern Arabian winds blew up dust from the streets, sending gusts spinning amidst the sandstone buildings. Parked cars lined the sides of the road as a crowd of people made their way to and from the marketplace at the end of the street. Women with hijabs wrapped around their heads leaned from apartment windows amidst their household activities; grizzled men clad in turbans filled the streets below.

Amidst the crowd, an inconspicuous figure clad in dark, flowing clothes and a niqab made its way away from the marketplace. At the other end of the long street, a mansion with rising towers and high walls stood amidst the common buildings. Almost resembling a modest palace within the urban outskirts of Khobar, Saudi Arabia, the building was home to a not-so-secretive EXALT cell.

A pair of almond-shaped eyes regarded the streets from behind the niqab. The caramel color of the woman's skin blended in with the rest of the inhabitants of the city, concealing her true origins. Re-positioning the simple bag slung over her shoulder, the woman drew in a deep breath as she approached the mansion standing at the end of the street.

_Damn it's hot in this thing. And it's not even a full-on burqa,_ Drake mused to herself, fidgeting below the dark clothing. She wanted to reach a hand up and scratch all over her head, but restrained herself. The gates of the building loomed right before her, and she didn't want to give the enemy any reason for suspicion.

The building before her was surrounded by white walls with ornamental wooden gates swung open to the streets. Over the walls, Drake could see two towers rise high into the sky, with a dome in-between. The sub-urban Taj Mahal appeared more impressive from a distance; as she drew closer, Drake noticed cracks in the white paint, with some sections of the wall having crumbled badly from the top. Two sentries stood by the gates, clad in traditional Arabic clothing and turbans. They were holding AK-47 assault rifles and proudly wore scarves of red-and-orange around their arms.

Despite the niqab concealing all of her face but the eyes, Drake felt more naked and vulnerable than ever before. She was about to enter the belly of the beast with no weapons to protect herself; with no way of contacting her support team. She came to a halt in front of the sentries, bowing her head down and waiting to be addressed.

A stern inquiry in Arabic from one of the guards caused Drake to tense her shoulders. The man's speech slurred heavy with an accent, and the covert operative struggled to understand the words. Mumbling her response, she spoke her fake name and reached into the bag for her ID card. Offering it to the sentry without taking her eyes off the ground, Drake waited.

The man regarded her ID card for a moment before reaching for a clipboard hanging from his waist. Verifying the information, he handed the card back to Drake and signaled for her to enter. Drake uttered a quiet thank-you in response, walking into the courtyard of the mansion.

To the side, a low clay building ran along the side of the wall. It had been identified to be the barracks of the compound; another low building on the other side of the gate functioned as the canteen. A handful of people were lingering in the yard, notably none of them armed or wearing the red-and-orange scarves. Heading straight for the stairs leading up to the main building, Drake carried on with her mission.

All of XCOM's covert operatives had received specialized training in addition to their common classes. Drake had been chosen as the main operator in the Middle East and generally the Asian continent, and as such she had studied the dialects of the local hot spots. She had always had a good head for languages, and the studies had proceeded quickly. Starting from the very basics, she had rapidly expanded her knowledge of Arabic as the region had been identified as a likely area of operations. She still had trouble understanding heavy accents and hurried speech, and her own accent was far from perfect.

Scaling the small flight of stairs, Drake stepped through the curtains hanging over the doorway. A small hallway covered by an ornamental carpet continued for some meters before opening into the main hall. Dual arcing staircases rose up on either side of the hall to a second floor, with multiple doors on both levels leading into the depths of the building. The interior showed no signs of the corruption outside; the walls and floors were in pristine condition, covered by expensive carpets and tapestries. A magnificent chandelier of crystal and silver hung from the ceiling, sparkling with daylight that swarmed into the hall from a row of windows located high on the walls.

Drake marveled at the sight for a moment, taken in by the beauty one could find even amidst the lowest kind of human filth. A sharp order in Arabic brought her back to the reality of the mission, and she turned towards the checkpoint on her right. A guard beckoned for her to approach and Drake complied.

She handed her bag to another man appearing from a doorway covered by beaded curtains. The man dumped the contents of her bag on a table while the other one signaled for Drake to spread her arms out. Doing as she was told, Drake stared at the wall while the man ran his hands over her body. As his hands passed over her backside, she tensed her body. The guard was getting a little too liberal with his inspection, but there was nothing Drake could do. Clenching her teeth, she bore with it until the man pulled away.

Making a second inspection of her, the man ran an electronic device detector over her body. As the detector reported no bugs on her, the guard muttered she was cleared to enter the building. Reaching over, Drake accepted her bag from the other sentry. He couldn't have been much over twenty, and the boy gave her a truly charming smile as he handed Drake her bag. Careful to avoid eye contact, she muttered a thank-you before turning away and continuing into the hall.

Her office was located on the second floor, at the end of a corridor in the very back of the mansion. The Council's agencies had managed to breach the security of the compound by 'convincing' one of the civilian women working in the building into replacing the information regarding a new secretary with their own. The actual secretary was now being held in a safe house, and Drake was cleared to carry out her operation.

Making her way up the spiraling staircase, Drake observed the main hall. A sentry was posted to the side of each staircase, watching over the lobby. Civilians made their way across the floors to their offices and workspaces, some of them speaking on their phones, others chatting with their colleagues. Some of the men were wearing business suits while others wore traditional Arabian clothing. The women were clad in full burqas or face-covering niqabs; they were all secretaries, cleaning ladies and other household personnel.

_It's not just here, either. EXALT seems to fear or hate women. I guess Kilroy did her job too damn well,_ Drake mused to herself, a small smile rising to her lips. The people she passed by paid her no attention. _Maybe this outfit has its advantages after all._

Heading towards the back of the upper level, Drake approached a mahogany door with a guard posted on either side. Showing her ID card to the men, she waited for their approval before pushing through the splendid mahogany door and into a corridor the likes of she had never seen before.

A lush red carpet ran along the floor, and the walls were covered by boiserie paneling. The mahogany was carved into illustrious shapes and ornaments and above the paneling, an array of antiquated swords and shields were suspended on the wall. The curved blades of the scimitars ended in handles glimmering with jewels and gold, and emblazoned proudly on the shields stood the Islamic crescent and star.

Drake made her way through the hallway, taking in the sight in quiet awe. The corridor ended in a single ornamental door. Above the door, another shield was raised with two scimitars crossed behind it. On the shield, a different symbol was emblazoned. A minimalist red eye in the shape of a crescent. Passing under the symbol of the enemy, Drake drew in a deep breath as she entered her office.

_Damn, it's a little better than my bunk back in the 'rax, don't you think? _A lavish carpet of deep crimson covered the floor of the room. To the left, a reasonably sized desk stood some distance from the wall. Behind it, a massive banner with EXALT's insignia embroidered on it covered the wall. A bookcase filled with binders and files stood on the opposite wall, and between them a single door led into the leader's office. The walls were now completely covered in wooden paneling, everything the deep, thick tones of expensive mahogany.

Drake walked over to the desk, laying down her bag with slightly trembling hands. Pulling a glove off, she gently touched a hand to the smooth surface of the dark brown desk. The texture was sleek and sturdy; a true masterpiece of carpentry. Slipping her glove back on, Drake rounded the table and settled in front of the door leading into the most sacred of the building. With a deep breath, she raised her knuckles up against the wood.

A moment of silence followed her single knock. Drake closed her eyes as she steadied herself. She was actually surprised to find herself so calm. She had worked so hard to convince herself it was just like any other operation; so certain she would be nervous once on the ball. Maybe it had all been for naught, for as she waited for the response from inside, Drake found herself to be calm, cool and collected.

A voice from inside ordered her to enter, and Drake opened the adorned door. Stepping into the office, she closed the door behind her. The décor was similar to the smaller secretary's office, turned up to eleven. A low round table with two armchairs around it, a lush sofa and a huge plasma TV. A cabinet of the familiar mahogany adorned with glass doors stood in the corner, brimming with idols and framed paintings of silver and gold. Colorful banners and stylish paintings of old covered the walls, making Drake feel like she had just entered an opulent museum.

To her left, a massive table ran along the length of the wall. Where the secretary's desk had been reasonably large, this one was like a fortress; several computer screens covered one side of the table while the other one contained paperwork, with the middle left empty for working space. A huge computer chair stood behind the desk, and Drake laid her eyes down as the man from behind the desk regarded her with deliberation.

"_Raise your eyes. What is your name?" _the man spoke in Arabic. Drake lifted her head up, laying eyes on the man so familiar from the mission briefing.

His receding hairline had been cut short and his dark beard was neatly trimmed. The wrinkles around his eyes spoke of many decades in power; that would end today if Drake had anything to say about it.

Hajid. An influential name in the circles of Khobar even before the alien war and the rise of EXALT. The man had been a known crime lord with unproven ties to Al-Qaeda, but over the past few months it had become exceedingly clear where his loyalties lay. He was EXALT's main operator in the Middle East and a prime target for slowing down the global terrorist organization.

Drake spoke her fake name in her best accent before falling silent. Don't speak unless spoken to. Only say what is specifically asked of you. Those were the two golden rules of conduct for her during the operation; they had worked well enough thus far.

Hajid steepled his fingers in contemplation, shifting his eyes from Drake to one of the paintings on the wall. _"Your instructions are on your desk. Familiarize yourself with them well. If you have any questions, ask them now", _the man spoke in a civil and sophisticated manner, yet there were sinister undertones running below the surface. Drake nodded her understanding but kept her mouth shut; she knew exactly what she needed to do.

Leaning back in his chair, Hajid turned towards the computer screens on his desk. _"You're dismissed",_ he commanded with a wave of a hand and Drake bowed her head down, turning back towards the door.

"_Oh and one last thing", _Hajid's words froze Drake in place as she reached a hand to the doorknob. _"My word is the word of God here. You would do well to remember that."_ The words were spoken casually, but they were loaded with intent; Drake knew what had happened to the previous secretary.

"_Yes, sir"_, Drake answered before opening the door and stepping back into the smaller office. Her heart was beating slightly faster but other than that, she was still calm. Sitting down behind her desk, she opened the bag.

Inside, she had a binder and a set of pens and pencils. Pulling them from the bag, she laid them out on the table. Easily slipping by the security checks, the inconspicuous items one would assume belonged to a regular secretary turned out to be the tools of trade of a covert operative.

Two of the pens were crafted out of a special mixture of alloys and various compounds, making them undetectable by electronic device scanners and impermeable to x-rays. The materials couldn't be used to make complex devices, but they were perfect for hiding a couple of USB drives. The third pen was something far more malevolent.

A shudder of disgust passed through Drake as she picked up the implement. _Is this really what we've come down to? Poisoning people?_ The task was gruesome and unsavory, but just as when she had first discussed the plan with the Council's agents, Kilroy's words from months ago rose to her mind.

"_Whatever it takes, Drake. We'll do whatever it takes, right?"_ Taking a deep breath, Drake rolled the pen between her fingers.

"We'll do whatever it takes, Kilroy", she muttered under her breath, laying the deadly gadget down on the desk. Grabbing the stack of instructions, Drake began her wait.

The Arabic symbols swam past her eyes as Drake waited. The plan was simple enough; go ask Hajid for a signature on a document. Offer him a pen to write with, and 'accidentally' scratch him with it. The poison would kick in within a few minutes, paralyzing the man. It would slowly shut down his entire body, but the effect would be delayed; he would not be dead for thirty or so minutes, allowing Drake to leave the perimeter before EXALT HQ would even register the man as dead.

The door to the office swung open as Hajid came striding in. He was wearing his coat and turban, and Drake felt her heart lurch in her chest as she looked up from the instructions.

"_I'm going out on business. Hold down the office in my absence."_ The terrorist leader waited for no response as he locked the door to his office and strode out into the long corridor.

Drake glanced about the room with rising dread. She was supposed to wait for an hour or so before carrying out the deed to avoid raising suspicion; now she had no idea how long she would have to wait. A sudden ringing from her right caused Drake to jump up in her chair, her heart skipping a beat.

The ringing continued and Drake gave her head a shake, trying to calm herself as she reached for the phone. With a deep breath, she brought the phone up to her ear, speaking the rehearsed phrase with only a slightly shaky voice.

"_Mister Hajid's office, how may I help you?" _The response was a jumbled mess of Arabic, spoken in such a rapid pace and through such a thick accent Drake had no hope of understanding any of it.

Smiling behind the niqab as if she were actually face-to-face with the speaker, Drake waited for the flood of words to die down. The smile reflected in her voice as she answered with another rehearsed phrase, _"I am sorry, Mister Hajid is not available right now. We will contact you within the next twenty-four hours. Thank you and have a good day."_

Not waiting for a reply, Drake hung up on the caller and placed the phone back in its holder. With a deep breath, she rested her back against the chair. She could only hope nobody would be insistent enough to call back; Hajid's name carried a lot of power, and she was relying on it to stave off any further inquiries coming in. After all, she wasn't really worried for the longevity of this job.

The wait throughout the morning was an anxious one. The phone rang three more times; each time Drake acted out her charade, and each time there was no follow-up. The morning turned to noon and with each passing minute, Drake felt more and more uneasy. No way of contacting her support team; no way of knowing whether or not Hajid was even coming back before sundown.

The clock was approaching 1 pm when the door to the corridor swung open and the EXALT leader strode into her office. Drake looked up from the computer monitor, pretending to have been working. _"Good day, sir"_, she spoke, receiving a dismissive wave from Hajid as he headed straight for his office. The man was speaking on his cell phone and as he disappeared into the office, Drake drew in a deep breath.

_Don't rush it now. He's still on the phone. Give it a minute._ The next few minutes felt agonizingly long as Drake held back the urge to burst into the office and get it over with. Finally, she picked up the clipboard containing the fake documents they had prepared in advance. Sticking the pens into the front pocket of her dark, flowing shirt, she reached for the intercom.

Pressing the buzzer, she waited for the response from inside. The device came to life as Hajid's voice inquired what she wanted. _"There are some documents awaiting your signature, sir"_, Drake informed him. Waiting with baited breath, she tensed every muscle in her body as she prepared to jump up. Realizing how silly she was acting as the nervousness of the unexpected wait was about to be released, Drake deliberately relaxed herself, limb by limb. As Hajid gave his go-ahead on the intercom, she took a deep breath before standing up and walking up to the door.

Pushing into the office, she walked up to the massive desk with her head held respectfully down. Removing the document from the clipboard, she offered it to the man. As he reached for the paper, Drake pulled out the pen containing the poison. Preparing to hand it to Hajid, Drake felt her throat tighten up as the man waved her away dismissively, reaching for a quill sitting in a decorated ink bottle instead.

_A quill? Nobody told me about a quill. Oh shit, shit, shit._ Hajid dipped the quill methodically into the ink bottle, shaking it ever-so-slightly inside to rid of the excess liquid. _Come on, think, think! Think goddammit!_

Acting on instinct, Drake half dropped, half threw the clipboard at the ink bottle. Hajid let out a sharp curse as the bottle toppled over, spilling dark ink over the expensive mahogany table. Drake muttered apologies as she fumbled to gather the papers spilling out of the clipboard, the very urgency and panic in her actions reflecting her feelings at the moment.

Hajid jumped up from the table, bringing the back of his hand across Drake's cheek, hard. Biting into the aching flesh, Drake felt tears well up in her eyes from the impact. Muttering another apology, she prepared herself for a fight if that's what it would come down to. Cursing once more, Hajid inspected the damage done to the table and his clothes; luckily, none had spilled over the man himself.

"_Give me that pen, woman."_ His harsh words rang blissfully in Drake's ears. Clicking the tip out, Drake offered the pen to Hajid. The tip scratched the side of his hand, breaking the skin. A single drop of blood rolled out, disappearing into the dark ink of the table with a splash.

"_Oh I am so sorry sir, I'm just so nervous please forgive me, oh I didn't mean to sir"_, Drake's apologies filled the air as Hajid cussed vehemently, shooting his secretary a poisonous stare as he wrenched the pen from her grasp. Muttering under his breath, he leaned over to sign the document.

"_Thank you, sir. Please, would you like to sit down while I clean this up? May I pour you a drink?"_ Drake played out the part of the concerned secretary perfectly as she guided Hajid to one of the chairs sitting by the low table in the lounge part of the office. The EXALT leader seemed to have had a rough day so far; he let go of his anger quickly in face of Drake's helping hand, sitting down with a sigh.

"_Water, please"_, he spoke in a tired voice as he leaned back against the chair. Hearing the pretty please, Drake stopped in her tracks for a brief moment before heading for the cabinet containing the crystal carafe. The carafe stood in a glass bowl filled with dry ice, and Drake poured Hajid a glass of cool, clear water.

Walking back to the table, Drake offered him the glass. _"Here you go, sir. I will get something to clean up the mess with, sir"_, she spoke, completely natural in her secretary's role now. Maybe it was the result of the adrenaline rush that had followed the knife's edge situation mere moments ago, or maybe it was the knowledge her target would be pacified soon enough. Either way, Drake bowed her head down respectfully before leaving the room.

Waiting outside the door for two minutes, Drake returned inside. Just as expected, Hajid was sitting down in his chair, head rolled over against his shoulder. One could have mistaken him to be sleeping, but for the open eyes. Walking up to him, Drake wiped a hand over his face, closing the eyelids. If anyone were to enter by freak chance, at least she could try to explain the situation long enough to devise an escape plan. She had about thirty minutes before the poison would completely shut down his vital functions, alerting the higher-ups at EXALT HQ. After that, it would be an unknown amount of time before the cell would be on full alert.

Heading behind the desk, Drake turned her attention to the computer. Hajid was still logged in, just as planned. Picking up one of the pens from her front pocket, Drake rolled the gadget open. Sticking the USB flash drive in, she executed the data mining program within. Preliminary simulations had shown around ten to fifteen minutes for the process; she should have plenty of time, forgoing any complications.

Drumming the table impatiently with her fingers, Drake looked about the room. Hajid was lying in his chair, motionless. It was a gruesome way to carry out the mission indeed, but it had been deemed necessary. The leader's death would leave the Saudi Arabian EXALT branch in disarray; along with the corruption of their computer network, they would be embroiled in a bloody internal battle for succession, at least if the Council's experts were to be trusted.

Carefully picking up the poisoned pen from the table, Drake clicked the tip back inside. Digging out the cap from her pocket, she carefully rolled it shut tight over the dangerous implement. Slipping the pen into her pocket, she resumed her wait for the program.

After ten more minutes, the window on the monitor signaled the completion of the data mine. Pulling the USB drive out, Drake inserted the next one. This one contained a powerful computer virus specifically designed to corrupt EXALT's computerized systems. Executing the file, it only took seconds for the upload to be completed. Putting away the inconspicuous gadgets, Drake shot Hajid one final look before taking a deep breath and stepping out into the secretary's office.

Grabbing her bag, Drake slung the strap over her chest as she walked out into the corridor leading towards the main hall. The niqab was covering her face, but she felt like her eyes must have given away all of her secrets. Steeling herself, she pushed open the door and stepped out into the open hall.

"_Where are you going, woman?"_ One of the guards on the door asked, stopping Drake's advance with an assault rifle raised across her chest. Drake had been expecting the inquiry, yet it still made the smallest of shivers run down her back.

"_Mister Hajid sent me out to lunch, sir." _Her response seemed to satisfy the guard as he nodded curtly, lowering his rifle. Drake walked past him and down the stairs, focusing on taking normal, measured steps below the sunlight filled arch of the dome above.

_Just two more checkpoints,_ she thought to herself. The guards at the door of the building let her pass without inquiry and as Drake stepped out into the dazzling sunlight of the Khobar afternoon, she felt a peculiar giddiness rise in the pit of her stomach. _They're really going to just let me walk right out of here. _The thought was intoxicating; the complete and total success seemingly within her grasp. Approaching the guards at the gate, Drake explained her situation.

"_Nobody leaves during working hours. Eat in the mess"_, the guard stated coldly, pointing her in the direction of the low clay building. The giddy feeling in her stomach transformed into a cold knot as the guard turned away from her.

"_But, Mister Hajid told me he doesn't want his secretary eating with the soldiers, sir"_, Drake explained as her pulse picked up. The guard snorted dismissively, waving his hand at her.

Taking a deep breath, Drake straightened her back. _"Mister Hajid, your fearless leader and chosen of God, gave me a direct order not to dine with the men of this compound. Do you wish me to take your complaints up with him, guard?" _Drake's voice was booming with authority, her eyes sparkling with anger. The guard stared at her in disbelief. Clearly it was the first time a woman other than his mother had defied him.

The man raised his hand, ready to bring it across the insolent secretary's cheek. His eyes were confused as he shot a look at his fellow guardsman, his hand wavering in hesitation. _"I take that as a yes, sir"_, Drake spoke confidently, seizing on the moment of uncertainty and stepping through the gates. Tensing herself as she prepared to bolt to cover should they demand she return, Drake walked across the street.

No demands followed. Drake carried on down the street towards the marketplace, never looking back. Good twenty minutes had passed since Hajid's poisoning; she would be far away before he would be discovered, and even farther away before they could link her to the events. Or rather, link the fake identity of Mister Hajid's secretary to the events.

Halfway down the street, Drake turned between the buildings to finally disappear from the sight of the guards. Letting out a deep sigh of relief, she weaved her way through the dusty Arabian city. She passed by women carrying small children and groceries; men out and about on business. The life-blood of the suburbs pulsed all around her, but something didn't feel right.

Turning another corner, Drake advanced down the alleyway. Glancing behind her as she took the next turn, a dark realization occurred to her; she was being followed.

Three men in sunglasses and turbans. Drake continued down the alleyways between the sandstone buildings and after three more turns, there was no doubt about it. They were shadowing her. _This is bad. I need to lose them. Could use some backup right about now._ Taking solace in the fact at least she didn't need to bow her head down anymore, Drake looked for an opportunity to lose her pursuers.

Rounding another corner, Drake found herself standing on the edge of an open bazaar bustling with activity. Walking briskly to the town square, she disappeared between the stands. Glancing behind her, she saw two men run out into the market, searching the crowd of people frantically with their eyes. Drake passed by a stand selling fish, joining two women clad in dark burqas as they headed across the bazaar, their woven baskets filled with fresh goods.

_Only two. I could swear I saw three men before,_ Drake noted to herself, somewhat concerned. Following the women to the edge of the bazaar, Drake separated from her decoys as she disappeared into the alleyways once again. The sun bore down relentlessly on the city as she passed between the shadows cast by the buildings surrounding her. Walking under the arc of a doorway, she proceeded to cut through a tenement's pillared walkway.

A man clad in dusty clothes and sunglasses emerged from around the corner to Drake's right. Shouting vehemently in Arabic, he brought the muzzle of a handgun to Drake's head as he pushed her against one of the pillars. Grabbing the bosom of her shirt, the man shook her violently while spouting insults.

Drake stared into his sunglasses as adrenaline rushed her body. The hard metal of the gun pressed intently against her forehead, scraping at her skin through the cloth of the niqab as the man twisted and forced the weapon at her. Struggling to understand the heated demands her assaulter was yelling in-between insults, Drake averted her gaze, looking for a way out.

Seeing the man's arm, Drake's head cleared up. He was wearing a white cloth wrapped around his arm, with a black stencil on it. It depicted the head of an alien impaled on a spear, with the Islamic crescent and star next to it. _They think I'm EXALT. They're going to kill me._

"No, no no! I'm American, American! Don't shoot!" Drake spoke up frantically through the man's demands. He paused for a moment before speaking in English; through a heavy accent but coherent this time.

"What were you doing with the Defilers, American? Do not lie, or I will end your life." Drake stared at her own reflection in the man's sunglasses, at the weapon pointed towards her head. Taking a deep breath, Drake prepared herself. She couldn't let her other pursuers catch up.

Speaking the truth, Drake moved her right arm to point at her side, "I have information on EXALT. Right here." The reflection in the sunglasses distorted as the man turned his head, and Drake burst into action.

Pulling her legs up below her, Drake lunged down towards the ground. An explosion shook her world as incessant ringing filled her head, her eyes blurring with tears. Dust, debris and plaster rained down on her as she reached a hand up to grab the gun. Gathering her legs under herself, special operative Drake launched herself forward, flying across the corridor with her assaulter.

Crashing the man against the wall, she twisted and pulled hard on his wrist, sending the handgun clattering to the floor. A heavy strike landed across Drake's cheek, throwing her to the ground. Scrambling on all four, she shook her head as the vertigo and constant ringing looked to tip her over. Hands grabbed the back of her shirt, pulling her up harshly.

Reaching behind her, Drake freed herself of the enemy's grasp. Spinning around to face him, she blocked a strike aimed at her face. Forced backwards, she let her training take over as she blocked the man's attacks, blinking away furiously as she tried to steady herself for a counter attack. The ringing seemed like it would never cease. She had no clue of her surroundings; who knows what kind of a crowd had gathered following the gunshot? If the two other men had reached her, it would be curtains.

Seeing her moment come, Drake didn't hesitate. Blocking a strike from her assaulter, she brought her elbow up in his face. His nose broke with a sickening crunch, sending streams of blood flying on his cheeks as the sunglasses were thrown off. Drake followed up with a push to get some distance from the stunned enemy before spinning around, catching the man in the stomach with a roundhouse kick, knocking the wind out of him. As the man crashed against one of the pillars Drake was already away, dashing through the corridor and disappearing into the alleyways beyond.

_Shit, shit, shit. Don't you dare stop me now or I will kick your asses,_ she thought as she dashed past a group of surprised civilians. Men shouted angry inquiries after her as she knocked them aside in her haste. _Hello there, this is Drake. Scheduled for one stoning to death today, thank you._ The thought made her bark up a wild laugh in-between gasps for air as she fled the AO.

* * *

The evening winds picked up on the ends of the scarf wrapped around Drake's head; gone was the uncomfortable niqab, replaced with a light, breathing cloth. Walking across the asphalt of the airstrip, she approached the private jet that would take her to India on her way back to XCOM HQ. The sun was setting down, its last rays casting long shadows over the open ground of the airfield.

_Why didn't we know about these guys? It's inexcusable_, the thought came to her mind once again. She hadn't had time to debrief properly yet; the safe house she had reached had been a horrific dump, with ants crawling out of the shower and a radio phone to contact her support squad. She had passed up on the first one and taken the second. The agents had been baffled as she had briefly described the attack; so much for Earth's finest intelligence services.

Reaching the steps leading up to the jet, Drake pulled the shades from her eyes and greeted the pilot at the door. He didn't ask any questions, and Drake was perfectly happy to just quietly shuffle into the passenger cabin. A single hostess was there to tend to her needs and Drake told the young Arab to bring her something to eat. She was starving; the lunch she had supposedly left for had never come to pass, and it was already eleven hours since she had last eaten.

Laying herself down in a seat, Drake closed her eyes as the hardships of the day were finally over. As the pilot announced they were cleared to take wing, she snapped her seatbelt on. Pulling off the scarf, she was glad she didn't have to cover her head anymore.

_I wonder how Kilroy would've coped with a law telling her to wear a hijab in public. I bet she would've kicked the collective asses of the whole country. _The thought made her smile as the airstrip speeded past her in the window, the rumbling of the plane oddly comforting. As the plane took off, Drake watched the city slowly shrink below her. By the time the hostess returned with her meal, Drake was already fast asleep.


	56. Chapter 56: Scarred

Chapter 56: Scarred

Episodes 60-61

Beads of sweat glimmered on Squint's forehead as she pushed herself up and down on top of the two benches. Going down low, she grunted as the gap between approached her; she couldn't give up now, or she would plunge all the way down to the floor. With a pained groan, she struggled for a moment before lifting her body up. Pulling her feet under her, she collapsed to the space in-between the benches, resting herself against the wooden seats.

Catching her breath, Squint glanced around the gym. A good number of operatives were out training; a small crowd had gathered around Wolfer as he went for the outfit's new record in bench press; the big assault had been working on his muscle mass non-stop since his recovery from the friendly fire incident. Gamage was doing crunches on a mat next to her, smiling at her every time she brought her torso up.

Squint clambered to her feet, grabbing her water bottle and sitting down on the bench proper. Drinking and steadying her breathing, she waited for Gamage to finish her set. Close-by, Pavehawk was doing deadlifts. The Italian rocketeer's face was twisted in anger as she breathed hard, preparing to lift. With a primal howl, the woman jerked on the barbell and brought it up above her head before crashing it back down with a shout.

"Is she always this loud?" Squint muttered at Gamage, feeling embarrassed for the rocketeer as several people around the gym glanced back at her. Pavehawk seemed completely oblivious to it all, psyching herself up for another rep.

Gamage turned to regard her roommate over her shoulder. Turning back towards Squint, she wore a small, tender smile on her face. "That's just how she is. Poor little Pavehawk", she said in a quiet, almost wistful voice.

Squint cocked her head as she regarded the peculiar sniper. She was so different from the rest of the outfit's soldiers who were always throwing gibes and jests at each other. Meanwhile, Gamage was just happily smiling away. Squint had thought she was extraordinarily quiet, but once they had gotten to know each other, the sniper had begun speaking up more often in her presence.

Her words often matched her demeanor; positive and happy, with an undertone of wistfulness. For some reason, Squint couldn't shake the thought that Gamage seemed so impossibly lonely. Maybe it was just because of how genuinely nice she seemed to be all the time. Or maybe because she really was lonely.

Squint stood up, rolling her shoulders as she got ready for one last set of push-ups. Noticing the approaching Morgan, she groaned as she recognized the familiar, mischievous grin on her roommate's face. The sporty assault walked with bounce in her step as she hailed Squint and Gamage.

"Well hello there, Mrs. President", Morgan spoke with a sparkle in her eye, never getting tired of the same old joke. Squint fell back down on the bench, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Come on, Morgan. Seriously, just drop it", she tried to convince her friend, failing miserably as a small, involuntary smile crept to her lips.

Morgan turned around, regarding the specialist medic AlexD who was working on his biceps some distance away. The South African's dark skin glimmered with sweat, and his flamboyant hair was reminiscent of the American actor Mr. T. Turning back to Squint, the assault puckered her lips and squinted her eyes.

"Mmmhhmm, now I gotta go for cocoa!" With a laugh, Morgan burst into the 90's hit song "Coco Jambo" while Squint shook her head in frustration.

"It's COCO goddammit, not cocoa!" she shouted through Morgan's singing, but to no avail. The assault spun around, swinging her hips to the song while throwing the perplexed AlexD a wink and a flying kiss. Squint buried her face in her hands, glancing at the puzzled yet ever-smiling Gamage from between her fingers.

It had all begun on her R&amp;R in Nagoya with Morgan and Petete. The energetic assault had been pulling Squint and Pete around with her as the three women had gotten stupendously drunk. Squint still felt the pangs of regret and emotional hangover as she remembered the night.

Towards the end, they had found themselves in a public karaoke bar. Petete had already reached the quiet, just-let-me-go-home stage of the night, though she had been partying uncharacteristically hard up to that point. Once Squint had spotted the song Coco Jambo by Mr. President on the list, she had instantly signed up. Morgan had laughed herself silly watching the small Pole sway on the stage, singing the ridiculous 90's classic at the top of her lungs.

"I used to dance to this in my pre-teens! Whoooo!" Morgan imitated Squint's drunken words in-between her singing, causing a bright red to flush the scout's cheeks.

As they had headed back to their hotel, the small hours blues had struck Squint hard. Her excited and energetic intoxication had turned to depressed and mopey as she had cried against Morgan's shoulder how much she missed Kamikaze. The assault had had a field day the next morning, tormenting and teasing Squint with the embarrassments of the night before. And it wasn't looking like she'd let up anytime soon.

"Are you finished?" Squint snapped at the laughing ex-marine as she finally stopped her hollering.

Morgan was wiping tears from her eyes, clearly too amused by her own wit. Rounding the benches, she pointed a finger at Squint and ordered in a stern voice, "Weren't you training anyway, corporal? Get on those benches and give me ten, midget!"

Squint frowned at the ADHD –like change in her superior's behavior. Jumping back up and spreading her arms and legs over the support, she drew in a deep breath. With a determined grimace, Squint began her set. One… two… three… her lungs were burning up as she gasped for air, and her pectoral muscles screamed at her to stop by the time she reached six.

"You goddamn maggot, give me another one! What are you, a kindergarten teacher or a soldier? One more you miserable pile of shredded uterus your mother pushed out of her cunt! Come on! Give me ten! Give me ten you worthless sack of shit!" As Morgan goaded her on, Squint struggled halfway up the last push-up. With a pained grunt she finally gave up, pulling her legs under her as she collapsed in-between the two benches.

"Aaah, I guess that was an okay performance. Well done, President Pipsqueak!" Morgan jeered good-naturedly, giving Squint's hair a tussle. Grinning a little at the scout's frown, Morgan turned towards Gamage.

The assault cocked her head, evaluating the sniper with her eyes. "So, I heard you brought back some dandelions yesterday?" she asked in a tone one couldn't quite place on the grid of curious, amused and condescending. Gamage just smiled at the assault, giving her an affirming nod in response.

Gamage had been part of a small crashed UFO operation yesterday. While Hypergeek had boastingly brought back two sectoid captives, Gamage had brought back some fresh August flowers perched in her hair. JBowles, who had been on the operation with her, had laughingly titled her The Happiest Sniper; one who has time to pick flowers amidst nailing every one of her shots on the enemy.

Not getting any further reactions out of the quiet Italian, Morgan turned back to Squint. Leaning in closer, the assault lowered her voice so people outside of their group of three couldn't hear her, "So, a little bird told me you have the day off tomorrow. You finally gonna get some of that, hmm?" She grossly emphasized her words with a wink and a nudge, causing Squint to pull away with a faint blush rising to her cheeks.

It had been almost two months ago since she and Kamikaze had officially become a couple on the day of their discharge from the medbay. Even though she cared greatly for him, she had wanted to advance slowly in their relationship. Kamikaze had been completely understanding, and even though she kept telling herself it was only because she didn't want things to get weird between them, Squint knew she was lying to herself. She yearned to be closer to him; to feel the comfort of another human being to its fullest in these dark times. But she was afraid.

"Sure is a shame. I know I'd be getting some relief if I had a man around here. You mind if I borrow him?" Morgan's crude jest brought Squint back from her thoughts, and she shot the assault an angry look.

"NO! Don't you start… I mean, goddammit Morgan!" she blundered over her words as the meddling woman messed with her head.

Leaning over to give her cheek a small pat, Morgan smiled down at Squint. "Well, do whatever you feel like, honey. But keep in mind, men don't like waiting forever!" With that, Morgan straightened her back and strode away towards the showers, throwing Pavehawk a small wave as the rocketeer approached the group with a frown.

Squint slumped down on the bench, her shoulders drooping in defeat. She glanced absentmindedly to the side as she dwelled on her friend's words. Gamage's face still seemed oddly happy as she grimaced from the effort of stretching her abs; Pavehawk had her towel slung over her shoulder while staring sternly off into the distance. She wouldn't be getting any advice or help from that pair.

_You can't be afraid forever,_ a thought crossed Squint's mind as she let out a deep sigh. Some wounds would never heal; she knew that. Lying around and hoping for the best had never been like her. With a deep breath, she braced herself for what was to come.

* * *

The last of the day's drills were over as Kamikaze took the SAW to its designated small arms locker. A small group of men was following him, the conversation led on by the spirited Wolfer who had managed to break the bench press record of the outfit earlier the same day. Of course, the previous record had been his as well.

"Hear you've got the night off, FUBAR. Man what I'd give to be you, gonna get some of that sweet, sweet pie am I right?" the assault commented amiably, slamming a hand to Kamikaze's back as he settled his assault rifle back into the weapons rack. Kamikaze shuffled his feet uncomfortably, glancing away from the big man.

Wolfer gave a low, long whistle at the gunner's reaction. "All talk, no joy huh? I feel for ya", he said sympathetically, placing a hand on Kamikaze's shoulder.

"You don't know anything about them. I'd keep those comments to myself", Iku commented dryly, receiving a dismissive look from Wolfer. With a shrug, the assault turned towards the door leading back into the corridor.

"Whatever, man. Was nice training with you boys, see you later", he said before striding out of the small arms locker, waving good-bye over his shoulder.

Kamikaze let out a sigh as he turned towards Iku. "It's fine, Iku. He didn't mean ill", he lectured the sniper absentmindedly even as the assault's words kept ringing in his ears. He really didn't want to push Squint beyond anything she was ready for, but… There was always a but, wasn't there?

"I don't think he's wrong, you know." The words from Vherid caused Iku and Kamikaze to turn their heads. The sniper had been leaning against the back wall, fiddling with the lock of his sniper rifle. Looking Kamikaze in the eye, he continued, "I mean, his way of putting it is rude, but I think he's also right. Either one of you could be dead by tomorrow, Kamikaze. You need to grasp the moment while you've got it. _Carpe diem_, my friend."

Kamikaze straightened his back and rolled his shoulders, contemplating on the sniper's words. Vherid was much the same on the battlefield as he was around the base: always hanging back and keeping a low profile before striking at the perfect moment with impeccable accuracy.

"I'll keep that in mind", Kamikaze said with a smile, heading towards the door. With his hand on the knob, he turned back towards the duo of snipers. "Dinner?" he asked briefly. Both men responded with nods, and Kamikaze waited for them to put their gear away before leading them towards the cafeteria.

Encountering other operatives on the way, their group of three grew into a small crowd. Entering the large dining area, Kamikaze cursed his luck as the rush hour was upon them. The tables were mostly full with a lengthy line of personnel waiting at the counter. Engineers, scientists and base security had all rushed in as their shifts changed.

With his tray filled, Kamikaze turned to survey the hall. Desperately looking for a table that could accommodate their party, he noticed Squint rise from the back of the room. She headed towards the dish return with Gamage, Pavehawk and Morgan trailing behind her.

"I hate the rush hour. Should've just waited", Iku commented ruefully as he came to a halt next to Kamikaze. With some anxiety, Kamikaze glanced towards the girls who were now approaching them on their way out of the cafeteria.

"Hey", Squint greeted him. The anxiousness in her voice was apparent to Kamikaze, and it made him feel a little better about his own nervousness. Returning the greeting, Kamikaze struggled to find words to follow-up with. A small crowd had gathered around them as the rest of the operatives got their trays filled, and Morgan was leering at the two of them from beyond Squint's shoulder.

Pouncing on the awkward atmosphere Morgan leaned over, speaking with glee, "Heeeey, pipsqueak. Didn't you say you wanted to talk with Kamikaze? You should go with the boys, I'll catch you later." Squint shot a startled look at the assault, a bright red flushing her cheeks.

"Hey, I think I see a table for us!" Vherid shouted over the hustle and bustle of the cafeteria, gesturing for the crowd to follow him. Glancing at Kamikaze, he nodded his head towards a corner of the hall. "I don't think there's enough room, you guys will have to find someplace else. Sorry", he spoke with a discreet wink, drawing a thankful chuckle out of Kamikaze and a disappointed pout out of Morgan.

Heading out into the corner, Kamikaze settled at the end of a long table next to some members of the research team. Squint sat down opposite from him, leaning her elbows on the table. Kamikaze picked up his fork, hesitant. Searching for the words, he frowned at his meal. _This is ridiculous. Just speak and get it over with._

Looking up at Squint, Kamikaze opened his mouth just as she did. Speaking over one another, they both paused before insisting the other continue.

"Sorry, you go ahead", Kamikaze said, feeling ridiculously embarrassed for no good reason. Squint let out a small, nervous giggle, causing a smile to rise to the gunner's lips.

"Felt like I was back in high school in front of that crowd", Squint remarked, another giggle escaping her lips. With a laugh, Kamikaze muttered his agreement. With most of the tension gone, he looked Squint in the eye while lifting his eyebrows inquisitively.

Squint returned his look before glancing aside, brushing up her hair. "Oh, right. Ummm… would you like to hang out tonight?" she said weakly. Just as Kamikaze was about to answer, Squint shook herself and slammed a hand to the table, startling him.

"That's not what I meant to say", Squint said in an angry voice, drawing in a deep breath. "Do you want to spend the night? In The… that room Scuba set up", she concluded with a slight blush.

Scubaman had arranged for one of the empty rooms in the barracks to be permanently open. The official stance of the brass was that everyone had to sleep in their own bunks and as such, the empty rooms had been locked up. But Scuba had set up what he called "The Love Nest", a place where operatives could go to have some quiet time with each other. There had been no use for the room thus far, and Scuba assured there would be no crackdowns as long as there wouldn't be another Zim –incident.

Kamikaze smiled at the woman before him. That was just so like her; she might get flustered and embarrassed easily, but she ultimately always carried out her will. She might not have been Kilroy or Renzol, but in Kamikaze's eyes, she was the strongest of them all.

"I'd love to", he responded calmly, the words causing the red on Squint's face to deepen. Reaching a hand over, he gave her cheek a gentle caress. Squint stared intently at the surface of the table as the red turned to scarlet. Looking up, she shot Kamikaze what was supposed to be an angry look.

"Get to eating, mister", she ordered, struggling to hide the smile that attempted to creep its way to her lips. With a chuckle, Kamikaze obliged and turned his attention to the meal before him.

* * *

Squint approached the door to The Nest with a considerable amount of butterflies fluttering about in her stomach. Cracking the door open, she watched as Kamikaze wrapped an old T-shirt around the door handle. Scubaman had pushed for the universal sign of reservation to be women's undergarments, but that wasn't a concession Squint was willing to make.

Stepping inside, she flicked the lights on. Two bunk beds had been pushed together for a makeshift double bed. The upper bunks had been taken down and as Squint made her way over to the bed, she noticed something sitting on top of the pillows. Picking up the piece of paper, she flipped it over to find a message from the infamous man himself.

"_Whether it be gently or roughly, enjoy breaking her in! I went through a lot of trouble setting her up, instructions for clean-up are in the nightstand's drawer._

_PS. It better be you using her first, KamiSquint, or I'll be mighty disappointed ;)_

_XOXOXOXOXO_

_-Z"_

"Oh God…" Squint muttered as she let the note fall to the floor. Running a hand over her face in embarrassment, she regarded the bunks more closely. A proper mattress suitable for a double bed lay below the red bedcover, instead of the thin and uncomfortable pallets of the regular bunks. Pulling the cover aside, Squint stared at the fluffy down and huge, comfortable pillows wrapped in deep red velvet.

"This reeks of Scubaman", Kamikaze noted laconically, but there was an undertone of enthusiasm running below the surface. Bending over to pick up the note, the man let out a chuckle as he eyed through the lines.

Looking up, he saw Squint jump on the bed with glee, bouncing slightly up and down on the springy mattress. Smiling at the girly enthusiasm that seemed to have replaced Squint's anxious mood, he strode over to the nightstand. A single long candle stood on a candlestick, and Kamikaze struck a match from the box next to it. With the mood lighting turned on, he headed back to turn off the intrusive fluorescent lamps above.

With no windows to let in natural light, the candle created a halo of soft illumination around the island of red amidst complete darkness. Squint had settled down on the bed and as Kamikaze sat down next to her, she felt the familiar anxiety return. Trying to distract herself, she turned towards the man beside her.

"Are your shoulders still stiff?" she asked while reaching a hand up to feel for herself. When Kamikaze responded with a nod, she gave his back a gentle push, forcing him off the bed. "Come on, I'll give you a massage. Get down there", she urged with a small smile.

Beginning the familiar task, Squint kneaded and twisted at Kamikaze's broad and muscular shoulders. The man's nape and shoulders seemed to be in a constant state reminiscent of a potato field, and Squint focused on evening out the lumps. Even feeling the man she cared so much for under her hands wasn't enough to shake the rising anguish off of her; or maybe that was exactly the reason she couldn't rid herself of those feelings.

"Hey, let's take this off. Make it a little easier for me", she muttered in a low voice, helping Kamikaze pull the tank top over his head. With better access to his upper back Squint resumed her task, her small yet strong hands eliciting grunts and moans out of Kamikaze.

Under the soft halo of candlelight, Squint slowly let the intensity of her massage drop. Running her eyes over Kamikaze's back, a sadness rushed over her like the waves of a deep blue ocean, leaving her feeling impossibly lonely. Deep ridges of scarred tissue ran between his shoulder blades, some left by a friendly fire rocket, others by a thin man's plasma carbine. Further down, long, jagged patterns ran along the sides of his spine.

Squint gently traced her fingers over the ridges and crevices of his bruised and beaten back. So many wounds from so many battles. Reaching the long scars running the length of his back, Squint pressed herself against him in a tender embrace.

"So much… you've bled so much for us all. For your comrades… and for me." With the last words, Squint felt the tears come over her. As Kamikaze rested his head against her with a sigh, she struggled against the tide. Unable to hold it in, she let the salt water fall on his strong shoulders.

Turning his head, Kamikaze reached a hand up to her cheek. "Squint? What's wrong?" he inquired in a voice filled with concern. When the first sob shook her body, Kamikaze wheeled around, taking her hands in his. "Squint, please. Tell me what's wrong", he begged with uncertain eyes.

Squint pushed her head down with a sniffle, unable to meet his gaze. In a trembling voice, she whispered, "I'm not good enough for you."

Kamikaze's brow furrowed in puzzlement as he struggled to understand. "I don't… Squint, what is this about? You mean my scars?" Rising up to his knees, Kamikaze gave her hand a reassuring squeeze while reaching up to caress her arm. Squint refused to meet his gaze, staring into the velvet sheets of the bed instead. Her cheeks glimmered wetly with tears in the soft candlelight.

"You have bled for us too, the same as me." Placing his hands on her sides, he hesitated for a moment. "May I?" he asked solemnly and as Squint responded with a small nod, he gently pulled the tank top over her head.

She was wearing a simple white bra. Scarred tissue ran from her abs to her chest, and between her breasts, a long red ridge indicated where the surgeons had gone in to stop the internal bleeding. Kamikaze reached over before stopping a second time.

"Is it okay if I touch you?" he asked in a gentle yet unwavering voice. Squint closed her eyes as she gave another nod in agreement. Kamikaze gently placed his fingers on the long scar, and Squint shuddered. Tracing his way along the wound, he spoke their names.

"Renzol… Hawkeye… Doubleu… Burncycle… Morgan… and me. You bled for all of us." As Kamikaze leaned over and placed a gentle kiss at the top of the long scar, another shudder came over Squint. She squeezed her eyes shut, chills running down her spine.

Why? Why did he always make her feel this way? Like a silly little girl, worrying over nothing. But just like he made her feel silly and small, he also washed those doubts away, like a soothing tide. With a light heart, Squint laid the last of her reservations and uncertainties bare before him.

"It's hideous… I'm ugly", she whispered, her throat choking up on the words. When she felt his hand on her chin, Squint let him turn her gaze to meet his.

Kamikaze's eyes were gentle and caring, and a small smile danced on his lips. "Never. You could never be ugly in my eyes. You're beautiful, Squint. Scars and all."

His words were liberating. As fresh tears rolled from her eyes, Squint leaned down and placed her lips over his. It was a gentle kiss, one that soothes your mind and caresses your soul, closing all of the wounds within. As their lips finally parted, Squint rested her forehead against his, drawing in his scent with trembling breath.

"Feeling better?" Kamikaze asked, the smile and laughter shining through his words. Squint felt a smile of her own rise to her lips, and she coughed up a small laugh in response. Sniffling as she wiped away the tears, she felt Kamikaze rise and settle on the bed next to her.

Leaning in closer, he placed his hands on her sides. Gently caressing up and down, his hands settled on the fabric of the bra. "May I?" he inquired for the third time, and Squint muttered her approval without hesitation.

The slightest bit of apprehension was still there as Kamikaze reached around her back, undoing the clasp. Slipping the garment off, Squint laid her arms to her sides. Her heart was racing and her breathing halted as Kamikaze placed a hand on her hip. Squint could feel his eyes run over her; her body tingling from head to toe.

The scarred tissue spread away from the middle, covering the underside of her right breast. The reconstructive surgery had done what it could, but they hadn't been able to return the perfect, globular shape. The skin was wrinkled and jagged, and as Squint felt his hand softly caress the old wound, she drew in a sharp breath.

Leaning in, Kamikaze placed a gentle kiss on her right breast, sending shivers running all over her body. "You are the most beautiful, sexiest woman I know. Scars and all."

As he repeated the words, Squint felt the last of her apprehension dissolve away. Tugging him up, she placed her hands on his cheeks. In the soft candlelight, she pulled Kamikaze in for a long and deep kiss. As their lips opened, Squint released her tongue to its wild, passionate dance. All of the tension and reservations were gone, like they were never there to begin with, leaving only an insatiable desire burning deep inside of her. A lust for life, for the closeness of another human being, gone unanswered for far too long.

Pulling Kamikaze along, she fell on the soft red velvet of the bed. She could feel the growing urgency in him as well; his hands were tracing along her body, leaving a trail of tingles and sparks wherever they touched. Finally breaking the kiss, Squint threw her head back and pushed him down by his shoulders; no words were needed. As his lips closed around her breast, the first of many moans to come left her lips.

Squint squirmed under his strong body as Kamikaze worked his magic. His hands were everywhere, and he divided his attention equally between her breasts. One may have been bruised and battered, but the jolts his touch sent running through her body were the same regardless. A red hot urge was rising deep between her thighs, and Squint tossed about on the bed until she could bear it no longer. Another shove on his shoulders, and Kamikaze slid down along her body, leaving a trail of kisses along her smooth and toned belly.

His hands found their way below the waistband of her pants and Squint lifted her hips off the bed. As Kamikaze jerked both the trousers and her panties off in one swoop, a surprised yelp left Squint's lips. Her boots quickly followed, and before she had time to react to his strong, determined moves, he had already descended between her legs.

She was positively steaming and as Kamikaze's lips closed around her nub, a low, long moan escaped her lips. A deep thrumming ran through her body as she arched her back, instinctively looking for firmer contact. One of her hands grasped onto his hair while the other one searched for hold on the red bedsheets. Her head tossed from side-to-side as Kamikaze's hungry lips did their work on hers.

Climbing ever higher, it didn't take long until Squint felt the release she'd been craving for so desperately begin to build up deep inside of her. Giving Kamikaze's hair a jerk, she pulled him up from between her thighs. "In my… in my pocket…" she panted hard between the words while propping herself up by an elbow.

Her hair was disheveled and eyes clouded with lust as she took in the sight of Kamikaze's strong, bare chest. His face was glimmering with her juices, and as he wiped a hand over his mouth, he seemed similarly incapable of taking his eyes off Squint. Lying amidst the bunched-up red blankets, she was a true sight to behold.

"It's fine, I brought my own", he said with a grin before Squint could finish. Squint burst into laughter, pushing him off the bed before falling on her back. After the giggles passed, she rose to watch as Kamikaze undressed.

His boots flew off into the darkness as he balanced on one foot. The trousers soon followed and Squint smirked approvingly, raising an eyebrow as she regarded his manhood. Absentmindedly biting into her lip, she watched him pull the rubber on.

As Kamikaze climbed on top of her, Squint reached down to grab his stiffness, giving him a firm yet gentle stroke. Rising up to whisper in his ear, she spoke in a husky voice, "I'll give you your service later. Right now, I want you to take this cock of yours and fuck me. Slow and deep."

Kamikaze's nostrils flared at the words as Squint gave him a mischievous smile. She knew exactly what to say to get a man riled up, and she could be quite commanding when she wanted to. However, her attitude quickly changed as he entered her, filling her world up. Letting out a low whimper, she crossed her arms behind his neck, pulling him down into a passionate kiss. She could taste herself on his lips and as Kamikaze began his slow, methodic movements, she could feel the release begin to build up inside of her once again.

Kamikaze did as she asked of him; he went slow and deep as Squint moaned below him. He went slow and deep as she pulled him in for another kiss, their tongues lashing wildly at each other. He went slow and deep as she arched her back in ecstasy, her breasts rising up, offering him ready access. Only after she wrapped her legs around him, moaning his name over and over again as she reached her peak, could he no longer go slow and deep.

With one last hectic push to the finish line, the world exploded around the two of them, drowning out the heartache, sorrows, pain, uncertainty and mortal danger that lurked beyond the soft halo of candlelight.


	57. Chapter 57: C-M-C-D had a farm

Chapter 57: C-M-C-D had a farm...

Episode 62

"Whoaa, Nelly! Giddyup, boy! Yee-haw!"

Spirited shouts filled the air around the farm as Private First Class Cameron McDonald slammed her heels into the sides of FRAG-E. The alloy SHIV's motors revved as it boosted through the lumpy field, throwing up mud and dirt with its treads. Right behind, three red and angry bulls gave them chase. That is, if bulls were aliens wearing armor resembling Luchador-masks with huge blades taped to their wrists.

"Drive me closer, FRAG-E! I wanna hit them with my cattle prod! Yee-haw!"

The SHIV took a steep bank to its right, CMCD rocking hard in the rough ride. One of the berserkers diverted off its path to intercept, and the SHIV barreled straight towards it on a collision course. The rookie pointed her arc thrower at the alien and as the great beast loomed right above them, she pulled the trigger.

"YEE-HAW! YELLAW-BELLY DOWN!"

The SHIV jerked and bumped as its treads left muddy patterns on the alien's armor, CMCD hollering at the top of her lungs as the machine climbed over the twitching body of the berserker. Blasting off back towards the barn, the two creatures continued to give them chase. Bumbling over their fallen brother's body like the three stooges in some macabre sketch, they roared out their anger and frustration at the escaping cowgirl.

"What the fuck is she doing?!" JBowles yelled from the top of a grain silo the squad had taken refuge at. Stoli, Panzerskank and Morgan shared his sentiments as they all stared agape at the approaching rookie riding the alloy SHIV.

"I don't care but you need to kill those things!" Daishi shouted from her spot atop a telephone pole. Her arms and legs were wrapped around the pole as she held on for dear life; rookie DoctorSheep had followed the example set out by the tech sergeant on the pole next in line.

The SHIV passed by below them, CMCD spouting her nonsense out into the night. As the berserkers approached, they changed their target. Grabbing onto the metal reinforcements of the silo, they began their climb up.

JBowles shouldered his rocket launcher, blasting a shredder rocket into the ground right below the two beasts. The shrapnel buried itself deep into their backsides, only causing the monstrous creatures to climb faster in their anger. Their roars shook JBowles in his boots as he felt a tiny bit of urine slip past the safeguard of his sphincter. "Oh fuck this", he muttered as his face twisted into a true perversion of a smile, followed by a desperate laugh.

Morgan and Panzerskank leaned over, focusing down one of the climbing hulks with their laser weapons. Stoli yelled for everyone to stand clear as she rolled a grenade over. The explosion blasted up past the edge of the silo, the green flames hot on the operatives faces. One of the creatures let go as it tumbled down into the ground, but the other one appeared in their sights as it slammed its hands on top of the silo.

With a primordial howl, JBowles drove his rocket launcher into the berserker's face. The creature fell off the silo with one last roar, and the rocketeer stared at his launcher in disbelief. "I…I did it! I killed the beast!" he shouted triumphantly, only to have Morgan tap a hand to his shoulder.

"Sorry to crash the party, Diesel. Wasn't you", she said with a grin, pointing a finger down to ground level. JBowles gave the assault a perplexed look before turning to look where she was pointing at.

CMCD sat astride FRAG-E, smoke rising from the barrel of the SHIV's superheavy laser. The woman had a crazy smile on her face as she noisily spat out a huge ball of gob onto the ground.

"Well I'll be if that wasn't one big pile of bullshit!" she spoke merrily, causing everyone to just stare at her, agape.

Daishi was the first one to burst into laughter at her telephone pole, and soon everyone followed, the absurdity of the very real situation slowly sinking in.


	58. Chapter 58: Alive

Chapter 58: Alive

Episodes 63-68

Operation Red Stranger

Guangzhou, China

17th of August, 2015

Strike-1 responding

Commanding: CAPT Awo

GSGT Renzol, GSGT Cell, GSGT Iku, TSGT DSM, CPL Stoli, LCPL AlexD, SHIV FRAG-E

Renzol gripped her shatterray as she moved in formation with the rest of the squad. The August night was gloomy, but the lights of the city ensured it was never fully dark. The façade of the building before her was deceitfully calm; the long office was adjoined by a warehouse to its right, and the parking lot beside it was a graveyard of abandoned vehicles as the alien abduction had hit. Following Captain Awo's lead, Renzol followed the squad into an alleyway behind a stone wall to their right.

Tall shrubs ran along the side of the wall as the squad approached the loading docks at the back of the warehouse. The cabs of two trucks peeked from around the corner down the alleyway; on the right, a warehouse on the adjacent lot rose high above them. Their approach was silent but for the low humming of the alloy SHIV's motors as it moved to the front of the formation.

Renzol ran her eyes over the loading docks as she drew closer. One of the trucks' doors was ajar, the light in the ceiling of the cab glowing eerily in the night. A pair of fuzzy dice and an air freshener hung from the rearview mirror, spinning ever-so-slightly around their axis.

Awo brought the squad to a halt as the stone wall turned to their left, opening into the loading docks. The captain signaled for Renzol to take DSM and AlexD to the ends of the truck cabs, and she nodded her acknowledgment. With the scout and medic in tow, Renzol moved up to the trucks.

The sliding doors on the sides of the trucks' trailers were open, giving the squad access into the warehouse. The trailers themselves were empty. Whether the alien attack had struck before they had started loading or right after unloading didn't matter; the personnel had ended up sedated and wrapped in green alien goo regardless, waiting to be loaded into the invaders' crafts as the cargo themselves. The universe could have a twisted sense of humor.

As DSM took point, the serenity of the quiet night was shattered. Crossing over the gap between the cabs, she yelled for contact, "Mechtoid"

Her words were followed by a massive blast of green energy as a barrage from the alien's twin-linked plasma cannons tore open the trailer from inside. The devastating surge of energy took the open door of the cab with it, sending the questionable ornaments hanging from the rearview mirror spinning wildly.

"Renzol, we need a snap shot! Take FRAG-E to the front, we can't fight this thing back in the alleyway!" Awo's orders rang in her ears as the squad spread out behind the first truck, struggling to find an angle on the enemy inside the building.

Renzol let her shatterray hang from its sling as she reached a hand over her shoulder. Bringing down the rocket launcher, she slammed a shredder rocket in before hoisting the weapon on her back once again. "Never carry a loaded launcher" was one of the first rules taught to rocketeers. Renzol really didn't have much use for proper conduct and regulations in the field these days.

As DSM took off from the truck cab farther out, Renzol readied herself. The scout dived in low across the asphalt as another barrage of plasma blasted through the air, burying into the stone wall to their right. As soon as the scout was safely across, Renzol pushed her head down, dashing into the fray.

The alloy SHIV turned the corner of the truck cab before her, its advanced half-automated combat heuristics allowing it to react into situations on the field independently, working in conjunction with the remote control from HQ. The superheavy laser spun up as the SHIV sent a burst of laser fire through the devastated truck trailer, dropping one of the drones flying out of the warehouse.

Renzol slid the last few meters into cover behind FRAG-E, the kneepads on her carapace armor throwing up sparks as they skidded along the asphalt. Her hand was on the handle of the launcher the whole way, and the weapon was on her shoulder in no time. A massive _swooooosh_ shook the loading docks as the backblast of the rocket filled the air behind her with torrents of thick smoke.

Slamming the empty launcher to the asphalt, Renzol felt her heart skip a beat. Through the smoke and debris left by the shredder rocket, a horrific sight emerged. Two berserkers in bright red armor roared out their anger, the hulking beasts charging straight for her and FRAG-E. Heated orders to fall back rang through the loading docks as Renzol heard the familiar howl of an autolaser from somewhere to her left.

Renzol looked away just in time as a bright flash engulfed the two massive aliens. The berserkers stumbled for a moment, disoriented from the flashbang. As the aliens parted, Renzol's eyes widened and she hit the deck.

A storm of green death exploded all around her as the mechtoid unleashed its plasma cannons on the rocketeer, the green fire burning hot on her face as the alloy shell of the SHIV shielded her from the attack. Backing up on all fours, Renzol dragged the rocket launcher frantically with her as the SHIV continued to give her cover, spraying wildly into the warehouse with its superheavy laser.

The barrage from the mechtoid was deafening, all-consuming. The green fire scorched the alloys on FRAG-E's carapace and filled the air around Renzol with the bitter stench of ionized elerium and its oxides. Gritting her teeth and wrinkling her nose, Renzol crawled on, the thought of the berserkers descending on her at any moment giving her arms and legs new strength.

* * *

The autolaser struggled on Cell's hip, like a wild beast trying to break free from her grasp. The lasers it was spewing out at incredible speed did little to slow down the hulking muton in red armor that barreled towards her through the trailer of the truck. Beads of cold sweat broke on the gunner's brow as the creature's feet crashed to the asphalt, the alien roaring out its bloodlust.

_I can't kill it in time,_ the realization occurred to Cell as she stood her ground. There was no giving up; she was the first line of defense, and the rest of the squad was struggling behind her, falling back through the alleyway they had come in from. She couldn't let them down. If someone had to fall, it would be her.

The roaring of the berserker drowned out the howling of her autolaser as the beast loomed above her. As it brought its clawed fist up, Cell didn't shy away from the fight. Waiting for impact, she braced herself.

The impact never came. With a sizzling red hole in its forehead, the hulking beast finally fell over as Cell cut the fire from her autolaser. Wheeling around, she laid eyes on Captain Awo. The squad leader was the last one on the loading docks. As he lowered his laser rifle and shouted for Cell to run over, she wasted no time.

Taking a few long strides Cell arrived at the mouth of the alleyway. The deafening roar of plasma cannons still rumbled between the trucks, and Cell turned to her squad leader.

"Where's Renzol?" she shouted over the sounds of battle as Awo started falling back the way they had come from.

"She's coming! Fall back! Cover her from the alley!"

The captain's words fell on her ears, and Cell turned back towards the loading docks, ready to disobey orders. Just as she laid eyes on the broken and scorched cabs of the trucks, Renzol stumbled into her sights.

The small rocketeer was scrambling on all fours, dragging her rocket launcher along the asphalt. Rounding the truck cab, the small woman sprang to her feet, eyes wide as she slung the bazooka to her back. From behind her, a thoroughly scorched FRAG-E followed. The SHIV was all shades of green as the mechtoid's plasma cannons had battered its alloy plating. Right on their heels, the berserkers were in hot pursuit.

The aliens were scrambling after the low profile SHIV, their alloy claws sinking into the asphalt as they lunged after the retreating machine. Cell sprang into action, joining the squad in their retreat. Glancing ahead of her, she saw the squad form up in the alleyway. Slowing her retreat down, she let Renzol dash past her before turning around, autolaser readied once again.

"OPEN FIRE!"

Captain Awo's command rang in the night as a flurry of lasers descended upon the aliens barreling down the alleyway. Cell steadied the autolaser as the weapon spun up once more. Making a walking retreat, the gunner held her position in the vanguard.

Under heavily focused fire, the first berserker fell, eliciting a triumphant shout from Renzol as a rapid burst from her shatterray carved open the creature's throat through a weak point in its armor. The second one kept on coming, dashing past the alloy SHIV as the machine turned to fire at the creature, missing and sending a barrage of lasers fizzing into the loading docks.

"Out! Goddammit I'm out!" Stoli's desperate cry rang over the sizzling of the laser fire as the engineer slammed her hand to the side of her laser rifle. As she looked up with wide eyes at the monstrosity rushing towards her squad, the barrel of her weapon slowly drooped to point at the ground, the overheating forgotten.

Awo was struggling on the ground, cussing loudly as he struggled to bring his weapon to bear on the enemy. His ankle was solidly lodged inside a crack in the asphalt, and the sling of his laser rifle was a tangled mess around his arms. With their firepower being called into question, the rest of the squad wavered. All except for Cell.

Digging her heels into the asphalt, the gunner's lips drew back to reveal teeth gritted in determination. Pushing the autolaser in her hands to its limits, she held her ground as the berserker rushed at her. Sweat glimmered on her brow and every muscle in her body tensed as the beast pushed through the incessant fire she was burying into its body.

With a defiant cry, Cell stepped forwards, pushing the cone of red-hot energy closer to the enemy. The berserker advanced: one step, and another one, rushing through the lasers with no regard to its own safety. As the gunner and alien finally met, Cell buried the autolaser into its stomach with a deafening battle roar.

For a moment, the ever-present howling of the autolaser died down, replaced by muffled screaming. Twisting to the side, Cell let the berserker fall off her as the barrage of lasers burst through the creature's body, spraying blood and gore into the walls and the asphalt below.

Jerking the autolaser free, Cell was a woman possessed. Her dark hair was coming loose off its ponytail, her face twisted into a grimace in her battle rage. But her mind was still sound. Taking off in a heated run, she sprinted for the loading docks and towards the alloy SHIV. They weren't out of the woods yet.

Sliding into cover against FRAG-E, Cell rose to one knee and brought her autolaser over the SHIV. As if on cue, the mechtoid emerged from between the trucks, its twin-linked plasma cannons spread out on its sides like the bizarre, shriveled wings of some mechanical bird of prey. Coming to a halt next to the cab, the mechanized alien brought its cannons on target.

It never had a chance. Cell's hair fluttered wildly as a rocket punched past her, leaving a trail of smoke in the air. The HEAT warhead buried into the mechtoid, sending shrapnel flying everywhere as one of its cannons blasted off, shattering to a thousand pieces. FRAG-E's and Cell's heavy lasers spun up, following up on the alien reeling from the impact. The red fire scorched its way right through the mechanized threat, crashing it against the devastated truck cab in a broken husk.

"Contact left! Two cyberdiscs, coming in over the parking lot!"

AlexD's shout drew a sharp cuss from Cell as she released the spent-up energy cell, slamming a fresh one into her weapon. Glancing to her left, she could barely see into the parking lot through the wall partially collapsed in the heat of the battle. The SHIV's superheavy laser spewed more fire out into the loading docks as the last of the mechtoid's support drones fell.

The squad had extremely limited firing ports into the parking lot; if those cyberdiscs were allowed to, they would come flying in right over the wall, tearing everyone's faces off at point-blank range. On the other hand, the stone wall was completely blown open on the loading docks' side, and Cell got ready to move in to catch the mechanical fliers in a crossfire.

With a muffled groan, a muton stepped out from the torn trailer of the nearest truck. Hitting the deck, Cell heard the sizzling hot impact as the alloy SHIV tanked the fire for her. While the sophisticated machinery before her whirred and clacked as it reloaded its weapons, she jumped up and brought her laser on target.

The battered frame of the trailer melted off before the relentless storm of lasers, burying right through the cover and nailing the muton into the wall beyond. Cutting the fire, Cell barked an order to the alloy SHIV, and the machine moved up, wheeling to the left. Dropping on one knee behind the infantry vehicle, Cell was just in time for the party.

Two cyberdiscs with a flock of drones for support flew in from behind a white box truck, and the gunner let fly. The lasers from FRAG-E flew well wide as the erratic movements of the mechanized weaponry threw its calculations off. But Cell didn't rely on any calculations. She was born for this.

Spraying a wide area across the two discs with red-hot fire, the rest of the squad backed her up. A grenade from Stoli flew in over the wall and into the parking lot, engulfing the cyberdiscs in a deafening explosion of green flames and tearing their support to shreds. What followed was a thing of beauty.

Renzol's shout from down the alleyway carried over the howling of the autolaser; her words incoherent, but the intent in them perfectly clear. The shredder rocket landed right in the midst of the two cyberdiscs, tearing open one of the fliers like a cheap knock-off Frisbee.

The explosion that followed devastated the parking lot; a blue SUV right below the point of impact toppled over, a jet of fire shooting up to the skies from its gas tank. Shrapnel and alloys from the eye of the storm blasted outwards, filling the air with a cacophony of broken glass, dented metal and the incessant howling of a dozen car alarms. Holding a hand up to cover her eyes, Cell peered into the smoke.

She heard the beeping before she saw the grenade. Throwing herself to the ground behind FRAG-E, Cell bit her teeth together as the explosion of green fire engulfed her. The frame of the trusty SHIV protected her from most of the impact, but the elerium-infused explosion still scorched hot on the back of her carapace armor, rattling her right down to her bones.

With one last push into the fray, Cell jumped up. The cyberdisc was open, staring at her with its queer, almost intelligent sensors. The autolaser fired up for the last time, and the tendrils of the cyberdisc retreated into its shell as the circuits within were fried, crashing the broken husk into the devastated parking lot.

* * *

The wrecks of the two cyberdiscs littered the asphalt between an overturned SUV and a white box truck. The side of the truck had been peppered with shrapnel, debris and soot. The rest of the cars in the parking lot hadn't been spared either; broken windows and dented bumpers greeted Renzol everywhere. At least the high-pitched screams of the car alarms had been quiet for some time now.

"We did that, huh? Not bad work if I do say so myself!"

Renzol smiled at the boasting gunner. Turning to regard the devastation around them, she couldn't help but agree with her. "Yeah. That was pretty crazy, huh?" she muttered, her tone quiet in contemplation.

Cell barked up a small laugh at the rocketeer's response. She had her autolaser slung casually over her shoulder and an unlit cigar clenched between her teeth. Making their way down the parking lot, the anti-mech pair scanned the perimeter for alien activity; Cell nonchalantly, while Renzol kept her guard up, shatterray shouldered but pointing towards the ground. The area had been cleared, but Renzol wasn't about to be caught in a surprise counter attack.

Coming to a halt at the other end of the parking lot, Cell leaned against the hood of an old red hatchback. Reaching into one of the front pouches on her carapace armor, she produced a pair of cigar cutters and a lighter. The cutters were simple unstained steel, but the lighter was a thing of beauty. Chromed all around, the zippo-style lighter had flames of copper running around the edges. On both sides, the raised fist of the gunner's insignia stood proudly in embedded copper.

Taking a drag, Cell let out a sigh of contentment. With eyes closed, she enjoyed the cool night air on her face while slowly puffing away. She didn't expect Renzol to be the one to break the silence.

"That was close."

Opening her eyes, Cell regarded the rocketeer curiously. Her narrow, plain features were solemn and serious under the army green beret. Pushing the smoke out through her nose, Cell contemplated on Renzol's words before finally shrugging, "Yeah. But that's how it always is, right? We've both made it through some real shit-hole ops."

Renzol shook her head slightly, turning to meet Cell eye-to-eye. "That's not what I meant. We have no right to all still be alive, Cell. Not with that much thrown at us."

Cell wiggled the cigar contemplatively between her teeth, reaching a hand up to massage the nape of her neck. She never really liked to dwell on what happened on the battlefield; life and death, victory and defeat. It was one or the other, and if you had time to contemplate on the results, chances are they were rather favorable.

"It was a tough fight, sure. And any one of us could be coming home in a body bag. What's gotten into you, Renzol? I thought you didn't dwell on this shit." Her words caused Renzol to glance around the parking lot, shifting the shatterray to her side.

The rocketeer's voice was quiet as she responded, "I don't know. I guess it just got me thinking. We've had ops like this where even when we did our best…"

"You mean Frag?"

Renzol looked up at the gunner, stirred from her thoughts. On her face she wore a look of genuine surprise. Letting out a small laugh, she brought her hand up to stifle the chuckles as she realized just how inappropriate it seemed. "Sorry, sorry. No, I actually wasn't."

Cell regarded her doubtfully as Renzol didn't follow up on the comment. The small rocketeer checked her shatterray before sauntering over to the hatchback and taking a seat next to the gunner. Looking up to the night sky, Renzol cleared her throat before finally speaking up, "I was thinking about Hawkeye."

Letting out a small _ah_, Cell leaned back on the hood of the car, giving the cigar between her teeth another wiggle. She had barely known the young South African medic; Hawkeye had been part of the outfit for no longer than two weeks before she was killed in action. Cell smoked her cigar leisurely as she waited for Renzol to continue, giving the quiet rocketeer her time.

"It was my command. Squint almost died. Kamikaze almost died saving her. Hawkeye… I watched her die, Cell. Right before my eyes. Powerless to do anything about it." Pausing for a moment, Renzol took in a deep breath. "That operation was hell. They just kept on coming. Floaters and mutons, wave after wave. We didn't even know what to call those… those fuckers."

Cell smiled as her friend stumbled over the words. She had never heard her like this; so genuine, so open. So she just listened quietly, smoking her cigar and taking in the narrative as Renzol shared her thoughts on the hood of the car.

"I don't know where I'm… where am I even going with this? I can't explain it." Renzol's brow furrowed in frustration as she looked for the answers within.

Cell turned to look at her friend, smiling through the cigar. "It's fine. We don't always know what we're feeling, Renzol. It's the same with everyone. As long as your head is clear when you enter the battlefield, that's what counts. It's what makes us human. Separates us from them." Gesturing towards the wrecks of the cyberdiscs with her cigar, Cell let out a small laugh.

Getting up from the hatchback, the gunner ran a hand through her hair, shaking the sweaty locks from her face. With another laugh, she turned to regard Renzol with a glimmer in her eye. "It's nice to see you're human too. You know we had a platoon pool riding on you being a terminator sent back to kill all aliens!"

A small smile rose to Renzol's lips at the friendly jab, and she muttered her agreement. Lost deep in thought, the pair continued their wait for extraction in silence.

* * *

"And one for Ballystix! Hell of a man!"

The operatives along the counter joined Awo in his toast as the captain downed another shot of vodka. Grimacing in satisfaction, he slammed the shot glass down, gesturing for Orgun to fill him up. The rocketeer obliged, laughing at the Pole and his unquenchable thirst. Once Captain Awo got rolling, there was no stopping him.

Cell was the next one to lift her glass, grinning at the squad as the alcohol flushed her cheeks red. "For shit-hole operations, and the people crawling back from them alive, _every fucking time!_"

DSM turned away from Iku whom she'd been relentlessly teasing once again, contributing to the gunner's toast. "I'll drink to that! Johannesburg train station, never forget!"

Slamming his fist on the counter, Awo roared his approval, "Fuck me girls, you want to poison me? That's two toasts, no cheating! Orgun, pour me another one!" Drinking the first shot with the rest of them, the operatives cheered on as Awo downed the second one, squeezing his eyes shut and giving himself a fair shake. Orgun pushed a glass of water in front of him and the captain took it up gratefully, preparing himself for a long night of drinking.

Renzol's head was buzzing as she had already lost count of how many drinks she'd had. The pint of cider in front of her was already halfway drained, and a small pile of empty shot glasses littered the counter before her and Cell. She was pretty sure the count was three for her, but she wasn't ruling out the possibility of four.

The survivors of the horrific terror attack in South Africa continued to reminisce, and as Awo proposed the next toast in Toothcake's memory, Renzol joined in with her cider, refusing the shot Orgun was offering her with a frantic shake of her head. She had never been a heavy drinker, and she hadn't been this drunk since the night of Frag's funeral.

In the middle of the counter, AlexD was smiling politely at a very tipsy Stoli. The engineer was playing with her blonde locks as she leaned in to whisper in the medic's ear, causing him to jolt in surprise as her breasts brushed up against his arm. Giggling frantically, Stoli leaned away, shouting over the counter, "Hey, rocket-boy! Fix me up!" She was shaking her empty glass, the rocks inside clinking demandingly.

"Why don't you try 'please, Orgun'?" the rocketeer mused with a grin as he leaned over the counter, lifting an eyebrow at the flirtatious engineer.

Pushing her arms together, Stoli leaned forwards, her considerably full chest jutting out at him. With a flutter of her eyebrows, she whispered in a cutesy tone, "Please, Orgun."

With a hearty laugh, the jolly barkeep reached over and grabbed her empty glass, preparing another mojito for the vixen. AlexD hadn't taken his eyes off the gorgeous engineer, but he quickly glanced away as Stoli straightened herself. His ears and cheeks were burning hot, and the young man silently thanked his dark skin for keeping him concealed.

Cell slid another shot glass in front of Renzol, and the rocketeer put her hands up in refusal. "No more. I can't drink more."

The gunner grinned as she remained adamant. "You don't have a choice, Renzol. Not for the next toast." Lifting her glass, Cell cleared her throat as she took the attention of the operatives quickly getting lost in smaller conversations. Glancing over the rest of them, Cell turned to regard Renzol as she spoke the words, "For Atlanton. The last of the Johannesburg heroes."

Renzol returned Cell's gaze, her hard expression softening as she joined in the toast. With her late friend's memory in mind, she downed the bitter liquid. Burying her face in her hands, Renzol gagged as she propped her elbows against the counter. After steadying herself for a moment, she whispered through her fingers, "I won't forget this." With a wild laugh, Cell slammed a hand to her back before turning back towards the rest of the crew.

Resting against the counter, Renzol quietly listened to the banter of the people next to her. Her head was buzzing, but the situation was still far from the disaster Sergeant Foogleman had led her into all those months ago. Regardless, she decided it would be best to call it an early night, rather than risk re-living the monstrous hangover from before.

Getting ready to leave, Renzol noticed her pint of cider, forgotten on the counter. It was a little under half full and without giving it a second thought, she reached over. Clearing her throat, Renzol attempted to get the rest of the squad's attention. Getting no response, she slammed the bottom of the pint on the counter, and the others turned to regard her with surprise.

"For Hawkeye." Her toast was short and to-the-point, but then again, nobody was expecting much more out of her. The rest of the operatives grinned as they joined her, Awo hollering out his approval at the gesture.

Lingering for a while longer, Renzol finally got off of her bar stool. As she turned to leave, Cell grabbed her arm. The gunner was well on her way to Smashed Town and her speech slurred a bit as she smiled down at Renzol, "Thanks for coming along, Renzol. This was fun, right?"

"Yeah. Take care."

Renzol felt incredibly light-headed as she headed for the door, Cell shouting her good-bye after her. She wasn't reeling, at least not yet, and as she stepped out into the orange lights of the corridor, Renzol felt strangely wistful. Making a quick pit-stop by the restroom across the hall, she took off into the metal walkways of the base.

The lights swam past Renzol as she made her way through the upper levels of the headquarters. She hadn't felt like this in a long time. What was it she was feeling anyway? Relief? Joy for not being dead? She didn't have the words for it.

She had really believed she wouldn't make it this time. The heat of the elerium on her skin as the mechtoid pinned her down behind FRAG-E, the berserkers in hot pursuit. She had given it her all, and she hadn't believed it would be enough. It shouldn't have been enough. By all rights, she should have been dead and buried by now, another toast in the operative's break room. Another picture hung on the memorial wall.

And so it was that Renzol found herself staring at the door leading into Room E. She hadn't thought about it, but this was where her feet had led her. As she placed her hand on the handle, a realization occurred to her. _That's right. Ballystix used to live here._

Pushing the door open, she peeked inside. Volatile looked up from her bunk at the end of the line, an inquisitive look on her face. Renzol definitely wasn't one to pay many visits, and at such a late hour too. Lifting her hand in greeting, the rocketeer stepped inside.

The room was empty but for the infantrywoman in the back and the medic lying in his bottom bunk close to the door. Hunterhr rolled around as he heard the door creak, looking up from his book with surprise.

"Renzol, hi. I wasn't expecting you."

Making her way over, Renzol laid herself down next to the bunk, resting her back against the side of the bed. The familiar anxiety she usually felt around the medic was gone as she closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. "What are you reading?" she asked, her tone quiet and calm.

Hunterhr stared at her for a while before turning his attention back to the book lying before him. "Ah, it's the Groundwork of the Metaphysic of Morals by Kant", he muttered, seemingly almost ashamed of himself. With a small chuckle, he continued, "I guess it's not really something most people would find interesting. But there's some food for thought here."

"Could you read for me?"

Renzol had no idea where the words came from. Maybe it was the need to affirm she was still alive, even if it was through the most simple of human interactions. Maybe it was the feeling deep down inside, telling her that to live is more than to just survive. Or maybe it was just the alcohol talking, acting independently from the rest of her body and mind.

"Okay. Sure." Hunterhr's response was only slightly puzzled as he regained his composure, reaching for his pillow and pushing it over. "Here you go", he muttered as he placed the pillow behind Renzol's head, and she rested herself against the warm softness with a quiet, satisfied sigh.

Turning his attention back to the book, Hunterhr cleared his throat. Starting from the beginning of the chapter he had been reading, he read the words of the German philosopher in a quiet and gentle tone.

Renzol let the words wash over herself, feeling drowsy from the alcohol and the soothing voice of Hunterhr.

She was alive.


	59. Chapter 59: Slashdown, Crashdown

Chapter 59: Slashdown, Crashdown

Episodes 69-73

XCOM Asia HQ

5th of September, 2015

Operative's Mess

"Go, go Gunners!" The chanting filled the air as Cell rolled her shoulders around, regarding the woman sitting at the table before her. From the other side of the room, the rest of the operatives answered with the words of the opposing corps, "Assault horizon!" Slamming a fist to her open palm, the tall gunner leaned over with a jeer, the stump of a cigar still clenched between her teeth, "You're going down."

"Bring it, bitch", Kilroy snapped, leaning confidently back in her chair. The newly promoted master sergeant took the aviator sunglasses from her hair and tossed them over nonchalantly. The expensive designer shades gave a rattle as they skidded along the surface of the small hardwood table. "Toss in that sweet lighter of yours. Or is big girl Tectonic afraid of losing?"

Cell squinted her eyes as she regarded the cocksure senior operative. Slowly reaching a hand into her pocket, she brought out the chrome-and-copper zippo. Placing the bet down on top of a stack of bills with a decisive _clack_, she pulled a chair for herself. Snuffing out the stump of her cigar in the ashtray, Cell stared Kilroy intently in the eye as Medve leaned in to give his support.

"Use your leverage. She's gonna rush you, just hold steady."

"Hold steady, gotcha." Cell's voice was contemplative as she continued to stare down Kilroy who was getting her own prepping from Drake.

"Focus. We can't lose this time. You hear me, Cell?" Medve's voice was urgent as his hands gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

Wheeling around, Cell laid eyes on the captain. With a grin and a chuckle she said, "I got it, big man. You really think I'm gonna give up my lighter? Please." With another chuckle she turned back towards the table.

It had taken Medve four weeks to recover from the wounds he'd taken during the landed transport ship operation First Hero. The big man still kept his distance from most of his operatives, but Cell had managed to convince him to join the inter-corps feuds during one of their whiskey and cigar clubs. It had been surprisingly easy; Cell suspected the time spent in medbay with Scuba and Kilroy had played a bigger role in the captain's changed attitude than she had. Regardless, it was good to have another man besides Van Doorn holding up the gunners' fort. There was only so much of Zim she could stomach.

"Let's do this", Kilroy said as she leaned over, pushing the sunglasses to the side and slamming her elbow on the table. Cell grinned and followed suit, closing her hand around Kilroy's. Eyes locked in a battle of their own, the two women spread their legs as they sought for solid foothold.

The crowd quieted as Doubleumc cleared her throat and stepped next to the table. Opening her mouth, the medic droned out the rules in her trademark manner, "You all know the rules, keep your elbow down on the table and your feet on the ground, shoulder in line or behind the arm, no rising off your seats or using your other arm, no spitting", the medic glanced at Kilroy, drawing a small pout out of the woman, "and no kicking. Hooking, top rolling, shoulder pressing, whatever you feel like using within the limits of the rules is allowed and even encouraged. And please, do try to avoid wrecking each other's arms. I _will _call the match if I see an arm break coming. Set?" Cell and Kilroy stared each other in the eye and muttered their approval. Doubleumc leaned over, hands on her knees as she started the match, "Go!"

Just as Medve had called it, Kilroy went on the offensive. The assault huffed and puffed as she put her weight behind the effort, pressing relentlessly on the gunner's longer arm. Cell responded by holding steady, grimacing as Kilroy continued to exert pressure. However, the brunette soon realized she wouldn't be getting a quick win, and the match settled into a stalemate. The cheers of the crowd around them turned from excited to demanding as the two women glared at each other, waiting for an opening.

Determined to end the fight rather than risk losing unexpectedly, Cell pushed everything she had into one last effort. Rolling her wrist over, she hooked Kilroy in, pushing her inch-by-inch towards the surface of the table. The smaller woman barked up a cuss as she was forced down, keeling over in her chair with the motion. With a triumphant roar, Cell slammed the assault down.

"Go, go Gunners!" The shouts roared from behind her as Zim, Medve and Panzerskank led the crowd, various operatives from other corps joining in as they chose their side. Kilroy slammed her fist to the table in frustration as Cell jumped up, lifting her arms high above her head. Turning around, she shared high fives with the people behind her, even grabbing Zim into an embrace as the two gunners screamed out their victory.

Turning back towards the table, Cell regarded the beaten assault with a smug grin. Leaning over, she stretched out her open palm. "I believe something over there belongs to me, hm?"

Kilroy shot her a look of pure poison, gritting her teeth in frustration and anger. Grabbing the stack of bills, lighter and sunglasses from the table, she slammed the items on Cell's awaiting palm. "Fuck you", she growled through her teeth, eliciting only a laugh in response from Cell as she slipped the lighter and money in her pocket and pushed the shades into her hair.

Doubleumc gave the mole on the side of her nose a scratch as she took a deep breath, calling for the next contestants in a voice carrying well over the hustle of the crowd, "Okay let's keep this up. If you're off duty now's your time to grab a cold one off the bar while the next troops get ready. Step right up, assaults and gunners. Who's it going to be?"

Responding to the call, the impressive frame of Wolfer pushed through the sea of operatives, drawing an excited cry from Kilroy as the woman already left her own defeat behind. Slamming a fist to the huge man's bicep, she said, "Get 'em Soulstep! Better not fuck up for all the time you spend working out. I swear to fucking God you won't hear the end of it!" Wolfer grinned down at the brunette, giving her a cocky wink before seating himself at the table.

Over the crowd, the voice of Orgun carried over. "Oi there! Pipe down!" The chatter of the operatives died down to a sea of murmurs as they turned around, curious to see what the Irishman was getting at. He was standing at the end of the bar, close to the door with a harmonica on hand. With an excited grin he brought the instrument to his lips. A haunting tune reminiscent of old spaghetti westerns filled the room as Orgun worked the harmonica. The drawn out notes vibrated over the crowd as the murmurs turned to queries and doubtful chuckles. Then he entered the room.

A large man dressed in the brown-and-green pants of the XCOM BDUs, with a tank top that left the brawn of his arms bare. Along one arm, the globe of the UN and the raised fist of the gunners stood proudly above each other in dark ink. The dog tags hanging from their chain gave a quiet clink as he came to halt in the doorway. The smooth leather rim of a large Stetson covered his eyes. Pushing the hat up with a single finger, the man lifted his gaze and stared at the crowd. The sea of operatives parted, giving him a straight path to the table.

Van Doorn squinted his eyes, the wrinkles and crevices around deepening in stern concentration. Staring intently at Wolfer, the stump of a cigar twitched in the corner of his mouth. Everyone watched in dead silence as he started towards the table. One step. And another. Smoke rose from his cigar as Van Doorn came to a halt behind his chair. Quietly, he regarded the assault who was struggling to keep a straight face. Unable to hold back, Wolfer burst into bellowing laughter, slamming his hand on the table. "The old man! You're shitting me right? They're sending the old man!" Turning back towards Kilroy and the rest of his team, the man howled with laughter.

Reaching a hand up, Van Doorn removed the hat from his head, slowly, methodically. Giving the well-oiled leather a light squeeze, he handed the hat off to his side. Panzerskank took it from him in silent reverence, her face solemn in adoration under her jagged mohawk as she pressed the hat against her chest. Staring down the insolent assault, the General waited for him to quiet. Finally Wolfer did, and the tune from Orgun's harmonica died down as the old man leaned over. Gritting his teeth, Van Doorn spat out the stump of the cigar, landing it effortlessly in the ashtray. His lips rolled back in a snarl, "You feeling lucky, punk?"

Wolfer snorted in contempt, completely missing the jest. "Ain't nothing to do with luck, old man."

Sitting down at the table, Van Doorn relaxed himself as he leisurely leaned back against his chair. As Cell and Medve leaned over to give him his briefing, the General lifted a hand up, stopping them in their tracks. "It's not my first rodeo kids." Looking Wolfer over as the assault was prepped by Kilroy and Instinct, Van Doorn's lips turned up to a smile.

"He's expecting you to rush him", Kilroy whispered, low enough to not carry over the table, "Just wait for your moment."

Instinct chimed in, "You don't have stamina for shit. Just punch through him in one go, after the early game is settled." The comment drew a dry look from Wolfer.

Doubleumc cleared her throat. Speaking her litany of rules once again, the match was ready to begin. The hands of the two men closed around each other, and the crowd waited with baited breath. Van Doorn's eyes never left Wolfer's, and the assault glanced back, feeling uncomfortable under the unrelenting stare. Doubleumc counted down, and the match was under way.

Wolfer grunted in surprise as Van Doorn bore down on him relentlessly. The gunner used the entire length of his muscles, from shoulder to wrist. Never taking his eyes off Wolfer, he quickly pushed the assault down to a defensive position, halfway towards the surface of the table. Cussing between grunts of pain, Wolfer steadied himself. Trying to gain the initiative, his body twisted as he tried to push the gunner back. But Van Doorn had the upper hand, and he wasn't about to give it away.

"Straighten your arm and shoulder line Wolfer", Doubleumc said. The assault had twisted to the side in a desperate attempt turn the tide, and his arm was in an injury-prone position. Disregarding the referee, Wolfer pushed harder, inching his way back up. "I'm not going to ask again, Wolfer. Straighten your arm or I'm calling the match."

The contestants growled and grunted through gritted teeth as Wolfer looked to push Van Doorn back. A shrill whistle pierced the shouting and cheering of the crowd as Doubleumc ended the match. Wolfer pushed over the old man's arm, but the medic's finger pointed to the gunner's side. "One for the gunners and the Doorn!"

The celebrations blew over the Mess as the gunners moved up two-nothing. Van Doorn took the victory calmly, smiling confidently in his chair while the operatives slapped him in the back. Across from him, Wolfer was being chastised by Kilroy while the rest of the assaults groaned in frustration. "Hey! Any chance we can crash this party?" The smug and cocksure words rang over the crowd, and most of the operatives quieted down as they turned towards the door.

Three men stepped into the room, all dressed in the deep blue of the pilot's uniform. The man at the head of the group had his jacket hanging open and his slick blonde hair was licked back from his forehead. A row of neat white teeth greeted the soldiers in the room as the pilot came forward. The two men behind him followed, glancing around nervously.

"Hey you! Get us something to drink", the cocky man called out, pointing at Orgun. He didn't move a muscle.

"Where's your goddamn invitation, penguin?" Orgun asked, his tone lacking its usual merry edge. The excitement had quickly turned into tension as the soldiers regarded the newcomers with wary eyes. It wasn't unheard of for pilots to pay them a visit, but never when the Mess was full and bustling.

The loud pilot gave Orgun a surprised look before turning towards the rest of the room. With a sweet smile and an amiable tone, he said, "Don't let us keep you. We're just here to have a bit of fun with the rest of you. We're all XCOM here, right?"

Doubleumc raised her voice. "Let's take five guys and gals. Next up scouts and snipers. Or in other words, DSM and Iku. Fill your pints and drain your bladders while you've got time."

Walking over to the table, the pilot introduced himself. "I feel like we got off on the wrong foot. I'm Slash."

"Wolfer", the big assault said, taking up the offered hand. As Slash shared pleasantries and greetings with the rest of the operatives, the tension quickly began to dissipate and the room relaxed. That is, until he reached Cell.

The woman was sitting down in one of the foldable chairs around the small table. She was shaking her head at the pilots, sniggering every once in a while as Panzerskank leaned in to whisper in her ear. "What's this? I didn't know you had pilots down here!" the visitor said. Leaning over, Slash snatched the aviator sunglasses off the gunner's hair and slipped them on, grinning at the people around him.

Cell was up on her feet in no time. She gave the pilot a shove, sending him scrambling back a few steps. "Give 'em back. Now." Her voice was ice cold.

"Whoa, no need to get all hostile. We're just having a bit of fun, right guys?" Slash replied, looking around for support. "After all, we're in this together. Kicking xeno ass and taking names."

Cell threw her head back and burst into a short cackle of a laugh. Looking at the operatives around her, she shook her head in disbelief. Closing the gap between her and Slash, she stared down the pilot with a smirk equal measures amused and insulted. She was a formidable sight indeed, standing half a head above the officer. Cell opened her mouth, her tone hard and cold, "What do you know about kicking ass and taking names? You jocks never take a single fucking risk. You're all just the commander's little lap dogs." Reaching over, she jerked the sunglasses from Slash's face, settling them back in her hair.

A look of doubt crossed over the pilot's face. It was quickly concealed as he frowned in disapproval. "Hey, it's not us who're getting all the new toys! The Foundry's always spitting out some new bullshit for you pogos."

Cell snorted in contempt. "New toys! Can you believe this plonk?" she said while looking over the crowd, "We get new body armor four months into the war. _Four. Fucking. Months._"

"Sure, but-"

"Shut the fuck up rook. I'm not done." Cell gave Slash another push in the chest, this time much harder. The pilot stumbled backwards, falling into one of the chairs behind him. "Now I seem to remember the boys down in engineering being real proud over these new aerospace projects that are about to hit. And you can correct me if I'm wrong, but I _also_ seem to remember there are some pretty fucking heavy-duty laser cannons strapped under your wings. Maybe try using them for once, yeah?" Slash stared wide-eyed at the gunner steadily gaining steam. "That's right. What the fuck's the point of having an air defense if all you do is fucking jerk off in your cockpits when something bigger than a fly comes buzzing down? And guess who has to clean up after your mess. We do. The fucking pogos."

Cell glanced around the room. Everyone was dead quiet, staring at the pair. The two pilots who had come in with Slash were fidgeting nervously, looking at the cold faces around them. Van Doorn gave his bald head a contemplative rub as he evaluated the situation. Turning back towards Slash, Cell leaned in close until their foreheads were almost touching. "How many deaths, Slash? How many boys have you lost?"

The man looked aside, a bright red flushing his cheeks. "Nil", he muttered, his voice small and ashamed.

"That's right. You better remember that the next time you come marching down here like you're the fucking Lord of the Skies. One of those ships. If you'd even contested _one_ of those motherfucking ships. Winged them, made them turn around, damaged their jets, killed some crew… maybe Frag would still be with us. Or Foogle. Or Hawkeye. Maybe they wouldn't have had free passage down to Johannesburg. You know how many we lost in Johannesburg, Slash? Three. Atlanton. Toothcake. Ballystix." Cell spoke the names one after the other, each one driving home hard as the pilot cowered in his chair. His eyes were getting misty and his lower lip trembled ever so slightly.

Van Doorn stood up with a sigh. Gently reaching over, he pulled Cell away and said, "Alright. He's had enough Cell." The gunner never broke her stare as the lieutenant pushed her away from the pilot. As Zim and Panzerskank took Cell by her arms, Van Doorn turned towards the two pilots standing to the side.

They must have been scared shitless, for as soon as Van Doorn laid eyes on them, they lifted their hands and defended themselves frantically. "We're just in training sir! We were just following Slash."

A crestfallen smile spread across Van Doorn's lips as he reached over, grabbing the pilots under his huge, protective arms. In a consoling tone one might give a child, he said, "Why don't you gents take your friend here and leave? We can catch up on war stories some other day. How about that?"

The trainees gave eager nods as they grabbed Slash by his arms and bolted for the door. The crowd of operatives made way for them. Slash let them drag him on for a few steps before he regained his dignity. Jerking himself free, the flight officer clenched his teeth together in anger, suppressing the tears as he stormed out of the Operative's Mess.

* * *

XCOM Asia HQ

7th of September, 2015

Mission Control

"Bandits moving in sir. Shotgun tallies one Fighter. We are committed."

Two blinking red lights indicated the movements of the alien ships on the holographic chart of the atmosphere. The blue map was being projected in the middle of mission control, where the hologlobe usually resided. Two sets of double green signals approached the contact from the front and the back. Central Officer Bradford brought a hand up to his earpiece. "Shotgun, this is Central. Bandit is cleared hostile. Weapons free, over."

The response came buzzing and rattling through the comm. network. _"Central this is Shotgun. Willco. Echelon on me Timezone. We're going Frisbee hunting. Over."_ A smile rose to Bradford's lips at the slight breach of protocol. As long as it kept the morale up, he was willing to look the other way.

Staring at the red signals on the hologram, Bradford's brow furrowed in concentration. Red lines extended outwards from the contacts and additional information provided by XCOM's satellite network was displayed below them. The first contact that was to be engaged by "Shotgun" Steinhoff and "Timezone" Zhao was well defined: very fast movement speed, high maneuverability and small size. Even more information coming from their database was displayed after it, regarding the craft's armor and weaponry. It was one of the Fighter-class UFO's, and it was well known by XCOM's air forces from multiple battles and recovered crashes. Narrowing his eyes, Bradford stared intently at the signal behind the fighter, described as _large_ and _unknown_. "What are you?" he whispered under his breath.

"_Central this is Shotgun. Hostile is padlocked."_ The comm. traffic between Lieutenants Steinhoff and Zhao filled the network as they took on the Fighter. Bradford only listened with half an ear; the two of them were a solid air group, and judging by the way the battle had begun, they wouldn't have any problems.

Turning towards one of the ATO's on the side, Bradford barked, "Give me a sitrep on Spitfire and Slash. Is that bandit tallied yet?"

The ATO's fingers moved frantically on the keyboard, bringing up statistics and data on the screen before him as he looked for an answer to the officer's question. "ETA one mike to tally, sir."

Letting out a sharp breath, Bradford wheeled back around to stare at the map of the atmosphere. The battle taking place in the lower stratosphere was coming to a close. The red contact blinked twice before disappearing off the map. _"Central this is Shotgun. We have a grandslam. I say again, hostile is in the timezone. Over."_

The operators in mission control burst into whooping applause at the report, and Bradford suppressed a grin that sought its way to his lips. The way that pair of brothers reported on each other's kills always struck a chord with him. What a pair of Raven pilots. Contacting Lieutenant Steinhoff, he said, "Shotgun this is Central. Saddle up and bug out, out." Looking around the room sternly, he reined the operators in, "This operation isn't done yet. Save the celebrations until after our radar is clear. Now get Spitfire and Slash on the horn."

The red and green signals descended from the stratosphere and into the troposphere as the alien craft came down for a presumed landing. Finally, Lieutenant "Spitfire" Shankar came through on the speaker, _"Central this is Spitfire. No Joy. I say again, no eyes, over."_

Bradford frowned at the sudden complication. He didn't like where this was going. "Spitfire this is Central. Shadow bandit but proceed dry, over." The acknowledgment sounded through the intercom and Central Officer Bradford waited with baited breath, eyes fixed on the signals moving through the troposphere.

"_Central this is Slash. I see it! Ahem… Bandit is tallied. Over."_

Running a hand over his buzz cut hair, Bradford let out a sigh of relief. It seemed to be a by the numbers reconnaissance after all. Turning away from the chart, he gave his eyes a rub. Too many sleepless nights.

"Slash this is Central. Scan bandit and bug out, over."

There was a slight pause over the radio before the response came rattling through. _"Central this is Slash. Negative. I'm committed. Request clearance to engage."_

Bradford jerked his head around, staring at the chart. "_What?_ Flight Officer Urban, secure the reconnaissance and bug out. You are cleared cold. I say again, knock it off, over."

The red dot on the chart descended at some speed, and one of the two green dots followed. From the side, the commander of the air group Colonel Fallis spoke up in wonder, "My God. Slash is gonna take on the leviathan. Get himself killed."

Bradford's nails dug painfully into his palms as he balled up his fists in anger. Gritting his teeth, he stared at the red and green signals on the chart. Over the comms the helpless pleas of Spitfire fell on deaf ears as Slash moved in to engage the alien craft.

* * *

"_Goddammit Slash! Flight Officer, get your ass back in formation RIGHT NOW! Break, break, BREAK!"_

The clouds rushed past Slash as he saw the skies through the glass of his cockpit. The meters, dials and lights blinked and spun wildly on the dashboard before him as he closed the distance to the huge alien ship. Its jets roared before him like the white-hot breath of some mythical beast. He could feel his heart racing as it pumped adrenaline-fueled blood through his veins. With wide eyes and a dry mouth, Slash spoke into his mic, _"This is Slash. Enemy is padlocked. Going hot, out."_ Closing into weapons range, he pulled the trigger.

The dual laser cannons under the wings of the Raven fighter jet burst into life, sending rapid pulses of high-powered energy at the alien craft. _Just a small hit. Take out the engines, _the thought flashed in his mind. The lasers disappeared into the blaze of the UFO's thrusters, to no discernible effect. Slash cursed behind his oxygen mask. _I need to get closer._

Hitting the throttle hard, Slash brought his Raven in. Ports at the stern of the alien craft slid open, and a flurry of green energy rained down on him as the enemy opened fire. Jerking hard on the flight stick and pushing down on the rudder pedals, Slash dodged the first hail of energy bearing down on him.

The g-forces pinned Slash down into his seat as he struggled to evade enemy fire, let alone engage. Another barrage of plasma bore down on the Raven, and Slash rolled to the left. The fire passed right over the cockpit. But for a moment, the inside of the fighter jet was illuminated with the green glow of elerium. _I'm a sitting duck! Engage, goddammit!_

Bringing his craft around, Slash released another barrage of lasers. Glancing past the jets, he barely dented the alloys of the great behemoth, leaving only the slightest of scorch-marks on its surface. Going for another defensive roll, Slash realized it was too late.

The cockpit exploded with the screams of the alarm system and the blinking of the red emergency lights. _"I'm hit! This is Slash, I'm taking heavy fire!" _he yelled into his mic. The plane was shaking violently, right wing spouting smoke into the winds between the clouds. Struggling to regain control, Slash glanced at the damage before turning his attention back towards the alien craft. _"Shit!"_

Pushing hard on the flight stick, Slash brought the nose of the Raven down. Diving under the barrage of plasma, he struggled to stop the nosedive as the jet was quickly leaving his control. Screaming wordlessly, he steadied the fighter. Then he looked up.

The firing ports in the bottom of the UFO were open. A storm of green energy rained down on him and Slash's eyes widened. _"I'm going down!" _he yelled into his mic while reaching over. Slash pulled on the emergency eject, and then the currents took him, the world around him exploding with the deafening roar of the high winds.

* * *

The green signal on the chart blinked and then disappeared. An ATO spoke up, his voice regretful, "We lost Raven-5 sir."

"That _moron!_" Central Officer Bradford shouted, slamming a fist on the control board before him. "Spitfire this is Central. Give me a sitrep. Do you have eyes on Slash? Over."

A silence followed that seemed to stretch on for eternity. Finally, the radio buzzed as Lieutenant Shankar replied, _"Central this is Spitfire. Negative. They moved behind a batch of clouds, over."_

Bradford cursed silently. Turning towards the ATOs on the side, he commanded, "Get the commander on the line. Tell him we have a situation down here. You two, look for Slash's transponder signal. Maybe he punched out in time." Bringing a hand up to his earpiece, he spoke into his mic, "Spitfire, Central. Bug out and get back here. There's nothing more for you to do up there. Out."

Colonel Fallis walked up to the central officer. The CAG of the Asian continent was a pale man with a friendly yet narrow face. It was his looks that had earned him his call sign "Casper". "Sir, we should start planning the SAR right away. I can coordinate with Big Sky to have a team ready in case we pick up his transponder." The CAG was calm and collected under the worst crisis they'd had in the Air Forces thus far. Bradford was grateful for that.

"Go ahead, colonel." As the CAG left him, Bradford shook his head. Turning towards the hologram in the middle of the room, he said, "Bring up that Fighter we shot down. Where'd it crash?" The map of the atmosphere wavered as the picture reoriented into a top-down view of a mountainous region between the borders of India and China. A blinking red light indicated the UFO crash site.

Bradford gave his chin a contemplative rub. At least they had a craft to recover for some materials. Just then, another blinking light appeared on the map, followed by an excited cry from one of the ATOs, "Sir! Picking up a transponder signal… IFF security codes match. They're XCOM, sir. Slash made it out." Mission control exploded with cheers and applause at the ATO's words.

Bradford smiled as he leaned over the control panel. The signal was only two klicks from the UFO crash site, in a deep valley sheltered between two mountains. "We're going to bring Slash back", he said with determination, narrowing his eyes. "Though once I'm done with him, he's going to wish we hadn't." Glancing at the ATO he had ordered earlier, he snapped, "Where the hell is the commander?"

"Sir, I can't reach him. His assistant said he doesn't want to be disturbed-"

"Well then run over there and drag his ass down here if you have to! One of our boys has been shot down, soldier! _Move_!"

The ATO bolted up, discarding his headset as he sprang for the door. Bradford gave the map one last look before walking over to where Colonel Fallis was planning the SAR.

* * *

The afternoon light barely reached the valley as great oak trees reached for the skies. Amongst them, more slender pine trees flourished as the region was slowly but surely under invasion by the sturdier plants. The mixed canopy above sheltered limited undergrowth, with a thick carpet of leaves and needles covering the rocky soil.

Clambering over a ridge, "Slash" Urban panted hard as he slid down the hillside, blue eyes wide under his pilot's helmet. The visor had been knocked off in the heat of the escape, and pine needles sticky with tar clung to his pilot's suit. Against his chest, he clutched a P90 PDW.

"Shit, shit, shit", Slash muttered under his breath as a muffled howl rang through the woods. The sound must have been behind him, but he couldn't be sure. Another sound answered, this one a shrill scream that echoed off the canopy of the forest. They were circling around him.

Arriving at the bottom of the small valley Slash bolted forwards, his feet throwing up needles and dead leaves. Swinging the P90 from side-to-side, he came to a halt by a large rock. Pushing himself against the cover, Slash peered off into the woods. Closing his eyes for a moment, he sent out a silent prayer. As his breathing steadied, the urge to just crash against the rock and lie down was overwhelming. He could take a break from his burning lungs and weary muscles, maybe dry off the sweat clinging to his back. Yes, it would be exquisite.

Another muffled roar carried through the woods, this time closer. With a desperate whimper Slash rose to his feet and started up the side of the valley. He couldn't stay on low ground- even he knew that much of ground combat. Scampering to the top he glanced over his shoulder.

On the other side of the crevice, a huge figure clad in green armor peered towards the bottom of the valley. Slash felt his throat choke up as he took in the sight of the alien. It must have been at least two meters tall, and wider than any man he had ever seen. Strangely enough, the mask on its face brought Slash some solace. It made the muton look like some comedic huge fighter pilot, and Slash let out a nervous laugh as he dived over the ridge and into the next slope.

The hillside continued to lead down. Scrambling his way forwards Slash glanced at the compass on his sleeve. He had glimpsed smoke rising from the Raven's crash site from the top of a hill farther back. Slash cursed under his breath as he realized he'd been straying off course. Correcting his movement he kept the pace up. The shrill echoes were getting louder around him, and the shade of the forest was getting darker as the sun descended beyond the mountain range.

Reaching the top of another ridge, Slash looked around. He could barely see in the darkness, but the terrain seemed to flatten out. A rustle from the left caused his heart to jump into his throat. Bringing the P90 up, Slash stared off into the darkness. Another rustle followed and he called out in a shaky voice, "Who's there? Who goes there?" _Great job, idiot. Like they're going to answer._

The answer did come, though not how Slash would've wanted. The forest lit up as streams of green energy came flying at him. Pushing his head down with a scream, Slash bolted forwards. Plasma struck the trees all around him, sending splinters of wood flying everywhere. Weaving his way through the forest Slash fired his P90 blindly into the darkness. The weapon stuttered wildly in his hands as he ran for his life. Tripping over a root in the undergrowth, Slash let out a grunt as his knees struck the hard ground. Panting and sniffling erratically he got up, taking off in a weary sprint. The plasma fire had halted for now and for a moment, it looked like he'd gotten away.

Coming to a halt in a grove of oak trees, Slash hung his head down. The trunks were several meters wide, like the legs of some ancient giant standing guard over him. Resting against one of the trees, Slash steadied his breathing. The dimly glowing lights of his compass showed he had strayed farther off course. Cold fingers of dread spread in the pilot's stomach, grabbing hold of him. _They're herding me in,_ he thought. His throat choked at the thought. It was what they always did to the downed UFOs. Frantically looking around the grove, Slash struggled to contain the rising panic.

He heard the rustle of footsteps just in time. Throwing himself to the ground, Slash rolled around to his back as green tendrils of alien goo wrapped themselves around the oak tree. A tall, slender figure stood in the shadows. Its long limbs, too long to belong to a human, were straight out of an urban horror story. The P90 came up and a burst of small caliber bullets tore the thin man to shreds. The muzzle flash illuminated a dapper suit and a strange alien device falling from the creature's grasp. Struggling up to his feet, Slash felt a queer sense of pride. The feeling was quickly replaced with that of urgency as a muffled howl rang in the night, followed by heavy footsteps close by.

His lungs struggled to keep up as Slash scrambled on. The muton giving him chase was in hot pursuit, the forest filled with the sounds of its advance. Crashing through a thicket, slamming its fist into a tree. The muffled roars were never-ending now, and Slash feared he would soil his pants. If he was to be taken alive, he at least wanted to retain his dignity. The last thing he wanted was to have an alien change his underwear. Realizing the absurdity of his thoughts, he let out a wild laugh.

Dashing blindly forwards, Slash suddenly felt nothing under his feet. With a desperate cry, he went down hard. His shoulder took the brunt of the impact, letting out a sickening crunch as he flew down the hillside, trying to turn his tumbling into a roll. Teeth rattling, the taste of blood filled his mouth as he bit into his tongue. Finally coming to a stop at the bottom, Slash was a man defeated. Resting against the rock he had crashed against, he looked up.

The muton stood on top of the ridge, outlined against the steel grey sky under the shade of the forest. The plasma rifle in its hand glowed an eerie green. Bringing the P90 up with trembling hands, Slash pointed the weapon at the enemy. Only an empty click left the weapon as the lock jammed. His shoulder was on fire, and Slash let the weapon fall with a grunt. This was it.

Mechanic howling filled the forest as a red light illuminated the canopy above. A barrage of energy burst through the muton's chest as it tumbled over with one last roar, slumping into the hillside and sliding its way down. Its lifeless carcass came to a halt near Slash, and he stared at the alien in wonder. Looking up, he witnessed the defining moment of his life.

A figure clad in heavy armor and a tactical vest stood at the top of the ridge. The large machine gun –like weapon in its hands glowed a quiet, dull red. The figure brought the weapon close to its face, touching something against the hot barrel. The spark of a cigar lit up in the darkness. "Crash Urban, I presume?" it spoke. Slash forgot to answer, instead opting to stare at the captivating sight in quiet awe.

His savior came sliding down the hillside with sure feet, coming to a stop above him. Slash laid eyes on the face of the woman who had so relentlessly torqued him the other day. Her face was twisted into a smile in the aftermath of the battle. The cigar wiggled in the corner of her mouth, almost playfully. A few strands of dark hair framed her strong cheekbones. Right then and there, Slash thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Slash looked down from her face. She was offering him a hand and with a pained grunt, he reached over. He grabbed onto the sleeve of the carapace armor. She grabbed onto the sleeve of the pilot's suit. Pulling him up to his feet, Cell spoke with a grin:

"_Now_ you're XCOM."


	60. Chapter 60: 121 Gigawatts

Chapter 60: 1.21 Gigawatts

Episodes 74-77

Chuzhou, China

14th of September, 2015

Strike-1 responding

Commanding: LT Van Doorn

TSGT Morgan, TSGT Petete, TSGT DSM, TSGT Hunterhr, TSGT Vherid, TSGT Volatile, SGT JBowles

Petete pushed into cover against a great oak tree. Lowering her gauss stuttergun to her side, she laid a hand on the arc thrower hanging from her hip. Leaning around the gnarled trunk, she peered at the remaining defenders of the Scout-class UFO.

The frantic chatter of Lieutenant Van Doorn's gauss autorifle filled the air as the weapon spewed a flurry of alloy rounds at the outsider holding the alien craft's entrance. The rounds themselves were light and small caliber, but the magnetized accelerators powered by elerium were capable of slinging the bullets at incredible velocity. A thin man peeked out of the entrance to fire at the assaulters and Volatile was quick to demonstrate the destructive power of the new weaponry. The alien flew back from the doorway, its lean body torn to pieces.

"Advancing!" Petete took off in full sprint, combat boots digging into the soft soil of the trench the UFO had ploughed its way through. Alloy sunk into alloy as her squad continued to suppress the pilot of the alien craft, leaving it unable to respond. Closing the remaining distance to the crashed UFO, Petete pushed herself against the tempered grey metal of the ship. Swinging the stuttergun to her back she pulled out the arc thrower, ready to capture.

"Flashbang out!" Hunterhr's shout carried over the incessant sounds of gunfire. Petete followed the arc of the explosive through her goggles. As the flashbang clattered in through the doorway, a grin crept to her lips. It was time.

The doorway of the UFO was momentarily swarmed by bright light. The explosion was her cue. Petete was away. Dashing in through the doorway, she laid eyes on the outsider. The creature's crystalline body was flashing hues of orange and white as it squirmed on its knees. Petete brought the arc thrower on target.

"_Woohoo!_ 1.21 gigawatts baby!"

Electricity swarmed the outsider. The plasma carbine fell from its grasp as its extremities twisted into thin slivers. The slivers retreated into the crystal in its core, fitting perfectly in their crevices. A fine mist of orange dust floated around the violently vibrating shard and for a moment, Petete could have sworn it was levitating. The feeling passed and Wwhat remained of the creature dropped to the ground, clattering against the intact plasma carbine.

Lowering the arc thrower, Petete glanced around the UFO. The perimeter seemed clear enough. Holstering the stun gun, she leaned over and picked up the crystal and carbine. The ridges and peaks were incredibly sharp and Petete took great care to grip the underside of the outsider shard. The vibrating had stopped but the crystal emanated a low hum. The frequency was low, too low to be heard., Bbut she could feel it thrumming through the bone in her arm, all the way into her inner ear. Straightening herself, Petete saw it was Morgan who was first to approach her.

"Damn, you never get tired of that shit, do you?" The assault was smiling at her, but Petete was almost certain she was mocking her. Shrugging the comment off, she turned to regard the flight computers of the alien craft. One of them seemed mostly intact and Petete enjoyed the thrumming of the crystal as she studied the holograms dancing above the alien device.

There was no point trying to explain it to Morgan. She didn't say it as a joke. She didn't say it to draw laughs and cheers from the other operatives, even if that's what had happened at first. It was something she said for herself. It was almost like a mantra or prayer. There was just something deeply satisfying about speaking those words as she stunned an alien. It felt right. It amused her, but at the same time it was something very serious and solemn. There was no point trying to explain it to Morgan. She would just laugh at her and wave her off as a nutjob.

"Volatile, you're with Vherid. Morgan, get your lazy ass over to JBowles and get on with the patrol. I want this site cleared." The booming voice of Van Doorn was followed by a perky reply from Morgan as the assault left the UFO. Petete mulled on her thoughts for a while longer before turning around.

Van Doorn entered through the doorway. His gauss autorifle was lowered, but the General was clearly ready to jump at the first sign of contact. As the old man noticed Petete holding the outsider shard in one hand and the plasma carbine in the other, he let out a good-natured laugh. "Well I'll be if those aren't the Sovereign's Shard and Carbine! Your Majesty." Van Doorn cast his eyes respectfully down, sweeping off an imaginary hat in a low arc. A smile found its way to Petete's lips. The old man was someone she always got along with. Van Doorn cleared his throat as he scanned the interior of the UFO. "Have to say, I've never seen Hypergeek handle the loot that casually", the General said, glancing at the quiet engineer, "but you're the engineer here. I can respect your expertise."

Petete nodded her acknowledgment. Unlike with Morgan, she was sure Van Doorn was being absolutely sincere. Though she didn't like the mention of Hypergeek. Petete wasn't one to get embroiled in feuds and spats, yet she didn't exactly get along with the cocky engineer.

Their wait for extraction stretched on as the perimeter patrol reports came in clear. Petete squinted her eyes as she listened to the silent song of the outsider shard. She felt like she was onto something. Like there was something there, just on the edges of her consciousness. Closing her eyes, she focused. It really was a song. Dancing around her inner ear, a tune just out of her reach. Just a bit closer. She needed to get a little bit closer. Without noticing it her hand squeezed tighter around the outsider shard, fingers coming dangerously close to the sharp ridges.

"…and then I said—Hey, Maple! Houston to Petete, come in!" Van Doorn's amused chatter finally pierced through the hum she had wrapped herself in, and Petete came to with a start. Van Doorn gave a hearty laugh at her spooked expression. It was apparent even through the massive goggles covering half her face.

"Sorry. You were saying?" Petete shook her head as she cleared her mind. Releasing her tight grip on the crystal, she laid it down against a nearby flight computer. Straightening herself, she turned her attention to the old warhorse retelling one of his countless exploits.

* * *

Green flames licked the surface of the metal shield. The glow of elerium-fueled fire reflected off the huge goggles on the engineer's face as she immersed herself in her work. A messy ponytail kept her hair from catching fire and a pair of overalls protected her uniform. They were quite the antiquated apparel indeed: grey, old, and stained from countless repair jobs and working hours. They had seen everything she had, from the small auto repair shop in the tiny hamlet of Veere to the grand city of Amsterdam. And now the corridors and workshops of XCOM HQ on a tiny, nondescript island off the coast of Japan.

Killing the torch, Petete pulled the goggles down around her neck. Examining the work, she was quite pleased with herself. There was nothing quite like working with one's own hands. The elerium would leave a great tone of scorched green over the picture once it cooled down. He would be pleased.

"'Sup man! Good to see ya, give it up homegirl!" Petete glanced over her shoulder to find Engineer Babbles approaching her. The man was a mess as always, overalls hanging open and hard hat tilted backwards. Next to him, Jacen was the complete opposite of his loud partner. Where Babbles wore a stubble of who-knows-how-many-days on his cheeks, Jacen was clean-shaven. Where Babbles was tall and stout, Jacen was short and lean. Where Babbles' clothes were messy and disheveled, Jacen's were neat and straight. From his neckline, the collar of a dress shirt and a tie peeked out. Petete lifted her hand in greeting before turning back towards her work.

"Whatcha cookin', doc?" Babbles asked as he leaned over her shoulder. From the side, Jacen glanced at his friend in astonishment.

"What does that even _mean_?"

"Ya know. Cookin' up some double-trouble downtown in Chinatown."

"Jackass." Jacen shook his head as he walked up to the workbench. Laying eyes on the metal shield, he gasped in surprise. "Did you use alloys on that? And an elerium torch?! What the hell, Pete?"

The shield on the workbench was adorned with brightly colored characters. Huge robots stood side-by-side with pretty girls in scant clothing and boys with spiky hair. The detail in the images was striking. Everything was capped off by scorched elerium on the sides. The green burn marks were strong enough to contribute to the aesthetic, but not overpowering as to hide the characters below.

Babbles muttered approvingly as he leaned against Petete's shoulders. "I knows dis, man. It's dem mangas. I likes me some mangas. 'Specially the one with the dude and the huge sword. You know the one with the demons n' shit."

Jacen couldn't get over his astonishment. "You're using alloys and elerium on _this_? You know how strict we are about using these materials!"

Petete shrugged. "The chief-engineer gets what the chief-engineer wants." Realizing what she had said, she stared off into the distance. "Hmm. Forget I said that." Without further ado, she reached for the elerium torch. Removing the fuel cell, Petete started packing up her gear.

"Shen? Shen told you to make this for him?" Jacen's voice was full of disbelief as he stared at the peculiar coat of arms.

Petete didn't respond as she shook Babbles off her. Turning around, she looked at the two engineers curiously. "Did you want something?"

The two of them exchanged a look. "Naw, just stoppin' by your lil' crib is all."

"Yeah, we're coming off break. Wanted to stop by in case you were here. Started to wonder if you got killed out there since it's been a while."

Petete smiled at them. They reminded her of her brothers in so many ways. "Thanks, I appreciate it. See you later."

The engineers said their good-byes as they headed off for the busy working lines farther down the great hall of the workshop. The corner where Petete did her work was a little tinkerer's hovel; nobody used this part in the official projects and she had claimed it for herself. Several unfinished projects littered the two workbenches or hung suspended on the walls. A street modification of a ballistic shotgun adorned with unfinished flame patterns. A bobblehead of Van Doorn with the paintjob left halfway but a head so polished one could use it to shave. A row of shot glasses for Orgun with the insignias of the ground corps stenciled on them. The list stretched on. Some of them were requests but most were just something she'd come up with on the fly.

Grabbing the rest of the equipment she'd used on the chief-engineer's initiativeauthorization, Petete was ready to leave. As she stuffed the set of bright acrylic latex paints into her bag, she stopped in her tracks. Bringing the set back out, a smile spread across her face. _1.21 gigawatts, baby,_ the words rang clear in her mind. Laying the equipment back on the workbench, she headed straight for the the arsenal. This was going to be amazing.

* * *

Hypergeek stormed through the corridors of the barracks. He didn't have a weapon, but he was still decked in full combat gear. He was positively steaming below his ballcap and headset. Bursting through the door to Room Echo, the engineer received curious looks from the operatives lying in their bunks. His eyes scanned over the racks before settling on the table at the back. He crossed the room in five angry strides.

"_Quelle est cette merde_?" The arc thrower landed on the wooden table with a slam as Hypergeek brought his fist down hard. His lips rolled back, revealing clenched teeth.

Petete shifted her eyes from the sketch of a SHIV she'd been working on. Giving the stun gun a nonchalant look, she replied, "That would be the arc thrower, Hypergeek."

The man hissed through his teeth, stabbing with his finger. "_Ici!_ On the side!"

This time, Petete didn't look away from her drawing. "The DeLorean." An image painted in bright colors adorned the side of the grey conical stun gun. The wheels of the DeLorean time machine struck lightning as it raced towards the muzzle, ready to unleash 1.21 gigawatts on a hapless alien.

"Look at me, _salope_. _Regarde moi!"_ Petete set her pencil down and took a deep breath. Turning over, she looked up at Hypergeek. His face was red and his nostrils flared with his sharp breathing. Shaking the arc thrower in front of her, Hypergeek said, "You think this is funny? Your lack of discipline and _professionnalisme_ is bad enough already but now you take it on yourself to sully regimental kit? With… _incompétent_ doodles like this?"

Petete looked away, her good mood ruined. Staring off into the corner of the room, she tried to ignore the raving senior operative. But Hypergeek wasn't done yet.

"I have to deal with your sorry ass in training already. _Penses-tu_ I want to come down here? Waste my time on you and your _idiotie?_ Captured an outsider, _quelques mutons?_ Thinking you're hot shit now, is that it? Top _arceau_ in the outfit?"

Petete's mouth had turned into a thin line. Pulling her arms to her sides, she hid her clenched fists. Turning to look at Hypergeek, she finally answered, "Hot shit? If _you're_ such hot shit and the top arc, why not just slap a picture of your dick over it? Make sure everybody knows who it belongs to."

Hypergeek trembled in anger at the retort. Straightening his back, he pulled the arc thrower with him. _"Imbecilé!"_ The insult hissed between his teeth before he wheeled around, barging out of the room.

The operatives looking on burst into laughter in their racks. Iku laid his novel down as he stared at Petete in disbelief. "Damn, Pete! I didn't think you had that in you!" Volatile, Doubleumc and Kamikaze joined the sniper with their congratulations.

Petete turned her attention back to the sketch before her. She really didn't like getting embroiled in feuds and spats, but it looked like she didn't have a choice. Picking up the pencil, she returned to shading the picture of the infantry vehicle. Working with her hands would ease the anxiety in no time.

* * *

Author's note: You will notice some timeline bending with the coming chapters. I'll move around some missions/events to make more room for the story, e.g. episode 75's mission will feature in the next chapter, and gauss is coming in earlier to give it some battlefield showings. It's essential since there are long stretches when not much happens, and then suddenly tons of shit goes down within a few episodes. If you want more details, the place to visit is vesmolol()tumblr()com as always


	61. Chapter 61: Weakness

Chapter 61: Weakness

Episodes 78-82

Mendoza, Argentina

21st of September, 2015

Strike-1 responding

Commanding: LT Scubaman

GSGT Renzol, GSGT Drake, GSGT Cell, GSGT Iku, TSGT Hunterhr, SGT Stoli, SHIV FRAG-E

"So then she tells the nurses it was _me_ who stole the chocolate! Can you believe that? Her entire sweet ass is practically chocolate by this point!" Scubaman's raised voice carried over the roar and clatter of the Skyranger as the aircraft blasted across Argentinian skies. Some of the operatives gave the lieutenant amused looks, but it was Drake he was talking to.

"That's not what I heard", Drake replied, failing to suppress a smirk.

"Oh my dear sister. So easily taken by her lies."

"I know better than to trust a single word out of your filthy mouth, Scuba."

Scubaman hung his head in defeat. "A hundred plasma burns. A thousand more chryssalid slashes I would take. But you alone, Drake. Only your words cut this deep." Turning his head, Scuba stared up at Drake with puppy dog eyes. Drake refused to make eye contact.

"Nope. Not happening you scumbag."

Scubaman gave a few hopeful blinks at the assault before turning away. Across from him, Renzol paid no attention to his shenanigans. Stoli on the other hand indulged the playful Latino. She answered his gaze with a sympathetic smile and a tilt of her head. Scuba returned the smile before straightening himself.

The Skyranger came down over the plains surrounding Mendoza. Flying in low, green-and-brown fields populated by vineyards and wine estates rolled past the aircraft. The outskirts of the city's metropolitan area stretched out over the land before the Skyranger as it reached the tracks of a railroad. Following along the bearing of the tracks, the squad was fast approaching the site of the alien abduction.

"_ETA two mikes."_ The announcement of Big Sky rattled over the intercom, causing the operatives to sharpen up. Renzol closed her eyes as she struggled to clear her mind. It was proving to be harder than usual today. Taking a deep breath, her concentration was broken by the voice of Hunterhr.

"Are you alright, Renzol?"

Renzol didn't open her eyes. "Yeah. Just let me focus." There were no further inquiries as Renzol turned her attention inwards, closing the sounds of the Skyranger and her fellow operatives out. Realizing she was grasping the metal of her flight harness too hard, she deliberately loosened her grip. After a few more deep breaths, she felt like herself again.

"_Brace for landing."_ Renzol opened her eyes and braced her legs with the rest of the squad. The Skyranger rumbled as its thrusters lowered the craft slowly to the ground. The suspension screamed in protest as Strike-1 touched down, its operatives jumping up from their seats and readying their weapons. Scubaman was smiling confidently at the head of the team as the ramp started to lower.

"_El Zorro's_ back, baby!" The lieutenant's words were punctuated by the resounding clang of the Skyranger gangplank. Scubaman led his squad out into the Argentinian afternoon.

Strike-1 had landed on an unkempt grass field running along the side of a railroad. Weeds and small bushes thrived under the bleakly shining late winter sun. Amongst the vegetation, piles of old rusty barrels and abandoned cars littered the stretch of ground before them. A solitary alien pod stood amongst the litter, leaking green vapor into the air. To the left, a long line of railcars separated the field from a highway. Big Sky took off with a powerful blast of its jets, sending gusts of dead vegetation flying around the operatives.

Scubaman took point, with FRAG-E and Drake on the right flank and Renzol right behind the lieutenant. The SHIV bumped up and down as it rumbled its way through the lumpy field, leaving a trail of flattened grass behind it like a military grade lawn mower. Beyond the field, an old shack stood amongst stacks of wooden crates. The formation halted as Scubaman raised an open palm. "Clear up to that lovely manor 200 meters out. We'll sweep to the highway after that. Move out!"

They made it halfway across the field before the cry for contact broke the afternoon silence. "One o'clock! Three reds, one floater!"

Drake took FRAG-E to the right while Renzol dashed into cover behind a pile of dented barrels. The rest of the squad stayed to the left behind a worn car while Hunterhr and Iku held the rear. There was no hesitation in Renzol's movements as she slammed a shredder rocket into her launcher. Shouldering the weapon, she was just in time to greet the enemy.

"Clear my backblast!" The beasts lumbered into sight from behind the shack. Renzol didn't wait any longer. "Fire in the hole!" The backblast kicked up dead grass and grit into the air as the rocket punched its way towards the aliens. The thunderous explosion rang through the afternoon as the squad ducked into cover from the flying shrapnel.

"Gas out!" Hunterhr's shout was followed by a projectile flying through the air, leaving a green trail behind it. The chem grenade landed in front of the charging berserkers. The lumbering beasts were roaring defiantly, regardless of the shrapnel sticking out of their bodies. They rushed onwards as the chem grenade exploded at their feet. A cloud of acidic toxins engulfed the mutons, eating away at their shredded armor

"Open fire!" Scubaman's order was followed by deafening roar of gauss weaponry.

The berserker on the left fell first, crashing into the dead vegetation. The gauss PDW in Renzol's hands stuttered as she fired at the leading alien. The beast pushed through the gunfire, heedless of the metal tearing at its body, disregarding the acid consuming its flesh. The only thing burning brightly in its diminutive brain was the desire to rend meat from bone. A massive spray of alloy rounds from Cell's autorifle took it down. The last berserker veered off its course, dodging a salvo from Drake's alloy cannon. It was charging straight at Renzol. Bringing her weapon on target, the rocketeer hesitated.

Renzol's training was shouting for her to fall back; to trust her squad, that they'll have her back. But retreat would expose their rear element to danger. It would expose Hunterhr.

"Renzol!"

Cell's cry was drowned out by the berserker's roar. The beast crashed into the barrels, sending Renzol flying through the air. Time slowed for her as the hard rusted metal scraped against her cheek. She lost her grip on the stuttergun as she brought her hands up to protect herself. Then the flight was over. Crashing hard into the ground, Renzol grunted in pain. The barrel filled with rainwater came down on top of her, dousing her in its contents. Renzol reached for her weapon, but the sling was a mess around her arms and the stock peeked out from under the barrel. She looked up at the berserker looming above her.

"_Olé_ motherfucker!" The berserker reeled as an alloy round tore open its throat. Three hundred kilograms of meat shook Renzol's world as the alien hit the ground right next to her. Yanking the stuttergun free, the rocketeer scrambled backwards on all fours. She was gasping for air, rattled by the heavy contact. More gunfire followed as Cell and Scuba engaged the floater.

Hunterhr grabbed Renzol by her shoulders. Settling her against the large rock he was using for cover, he peered into her eyes. "Are you okay? Follow my finger."

Renzol shook herself to clear her head. She was positively soaked and she'd lost her beret in the assault. Focusing on the medic's moving finger, she felt only slightly queasy. "I'm alright", she said, getting ready to stand up and join the fight.

"Hey, take it easy." Hunterhr held Renzol down by her shoulders as he looked down. Deep, jagged crevices ran along the carapace armor. The medic placed a hand over the impact site and pressed down firmly. Renzol grunted.

"I'm fine goddammit! Just patch the armor!" Hunterhr pulled out his medikit. He filled the dents with repair paste and sprayed emergency hardener over it. Renzol grimaced as she struggled up to her feet.

The battle raged on down the field. Drake and Stoli were charging into the fray behind FRAG-E as another berserker rushed at them. Scubaman and Cell opened fire and Stoli's scatter laser laid the creature down. Moving up, the engineer and assault took the battle to the remaining enemies beyond the crates.

Iku cursed as another slug from his gauss long rifle missed its target. A floater flew in over the shack and Renzol dived for cover behind the alien pod standing in the middle of the field. A cry from Cell signaled things were going from bad to worse, "Contact three o'clock! One green, four floaters!"

Renzol scrambled up as the floater fell under Cell's steady aim. Taking cover against the new vector, Renzol peered towards the flatbed railcar. A cloud of red smoke bloomed around her and the two soldiers on the car before her. A flurry of plasma made her duck for cover. Then the beeping came.

"Grenade! Get down!" The urgent cry contained none of Scubaman's usual jolly demeanor. Green flames exploded around the squad, rattling Renzol hard. Her abdomen was rock hard as the impact made her gag. Holding a hand out, she balanced herself and pushed against the alien pod. Incessant ringing consumed Renzol as she fought to quell the rising nausea.

The muffled sounds of blasting plasma and cracking gunfire filled the air around Renzol. "We need fire support!_ Now_!" Renzol glanced up as Scubaman's shout pierced through to her. Drake sprang forth from the shack. A barrage of plasma crashed squarely into the assault's chest. She veered off course by a few steps, but her face was determined. She refused to give in.

The sight gave Renzol new strength. She flung the rocket launcher off her back and slammed in another shredder.

The muton had moved up to the other side of the scorched car. Drake fired her alloy cannon on the run and the alien stumbled back from the vehicle. A burst from Scuba tore the creature wide open, soiling the vegetation with yellow ichor.

Then another salvo of plasma struck Drake. The assault went down with a scream, crashing against a jutting rock. Covering her head, she pushed into cover from the relentless attack. Renzol let her rocket loose.

One of the floaters was ripped asunder by the shrapnel, howling as it went down in flames. Another one dropped as an ultra-high velocity alloy slug barreled through its body. Cell's autorifle chattered frantically as she hosed fire at the remaining aliens, dropping one from the sky. The last one glanced around as its podmates fell one after the other. A massive barrage of red lasers united it with its brethren as FRAG-E joined the battle at the railcars.

Scubaman grimaced behind the car. The lieutenant's armor was smoking as he tentatively stretched his arm. From next to him, a considerably less battered Cell cried for contact one last time, "Contact at my eleven! Four drones!"

Taking a knee, Renzol loaded her last high explosive rocket into the launcher. Cell was firmly on top of things as she shouted over her shoulder, "Through the red car on the left! The red one Renzol!" Renzol lifted the bazooka and let fly.

The explosion decimated the railcar. Through the smoke and debris, one lonely drone came flying in. Cell's gauss autorifle spewed out a flurry of rounds, finally putting an end to the battle.

The squad held their positions for a while longer. With ringing ears and bleeding wounds, they listened to the quiet of the battlefield. A sparrow chirped somewhere in the distance. It was soon joined by another one as they graced the creation with their song. The war didn't exist to them.

Scubaman broke the silence once he was sure they were clear, "Iku, watch the rear! Cell and Renzol, get on those railcars. Congo, tend to the wounded. We'll sweep the AO and call in Big Sky after everyone's patched up." The medic nodded as he started towards the lieutenant.

Scuba grinned as he shook Hunterhr off himself. "Not me you dumbass! Take care of my girls first. _Jesucristo_ man!" The lieutenant whistled. "FRAG-E, here boy!" The SHIV rumbled its way over to Scubaman and the two of them took off towards the shack to hold the front of the squad.

Renzol scanned towards the highway over the remains of the red railcar. Her abdomen was still stiff, but the feeling of nausea now had the familiar flavor of anxiety to it. _You fucked up,_ a voice whispered deep inside her.

"Fucking hell, these things just keep showing up, huh?" Cell's words were a welcome distraction for Renzol. The gunner had her autorifle steadied on the flatbed, ready for contact.

"Yeah." Renzol didn't know what else to say. She hoped Cell would keep talking; anything to keep the voice inside her quiet.

"You alright? That was a fucking impressive flight. Gotta give you a ten for sticking that landing too!"

"I'm fine." Silence followed Renzol's words. Time passed as she brewed in her emotions. _You fucked up,_ the cold voice whispered once again. Renzol shivered as the full extent of what had happened during the battle sank in. _It's a_ _weakness, Renzol. You know what must be done._

Hunterhr had been tending to Drake and Stoli behind the scorched car. Finally he got up, heading towards Renzol. She lowered her stuttergun as Hunterhr inspected her. His fingers brushed at her head as he looked for signs of head trauma. The touch made her feel even more anxious. The voice inside sniggered.

"Does it hurt?" Hunterhr's voice was firm and gentle as he pressed down on her abdomen. Renzol suppressed a grunt.

"No", she lied. The medic continued his inspection, pressing down on her sides. Renzol couldn't take it any longer. She snapped at the medic, "I'm fine! Just leave me alone." Shaking herself free, she turned back towards the highway. Hunterhr stared at her with those gentle, thoughtful eyes of his. "Go take care of Scuba." The words were little more than a mutter, hardly an apology, but it was all Renzol could muster. The snigger inside ramped up to laughter before finally fading away.

Hunterhr left them with a quiet nod. Renzol disregarded the inquisitive look from Cell, instead taking one of her gloves off. Slipping her hand under the vest of the carapace armor, she grimaced as she felt for the impact site. Her fingers came back red.

"You sure you're alright? Should I call him back?"

Renzol scoffed at Cell's words. "It's just a scratch and a bruise. I can handle it."

"Whatever you say." Cell turned away from the small rocketeer and silence enveloped the pair once more. Renzol put her glove back on and returned to watching her sector.

_You fucked up. What good is all that training if you're not even going to react properly? _The chilling voice had the familiar edge of self-loathing from her previous life, yet something was fundamentally different. _How long are you going to keep this up? You know how it will end, don't you?_ Despite its coldness, the voice was almost sympathetic; it understood her. Renzol gritted her teeth, trying to focus on the highway. The enemy could be right behind that truck. She had to stay sharp.

_It's a weakness. You know what we do with weakness._

_SHUT UP! Shut the fuck up! _Renzol wanted to scream. She wanted to bolt up and storm away. She wanted to stuff the voice inside the Box and be done with it forever. But of course it was impossible. She knew what the voice was. It wasn't self-loathing; telling her she wasn't good enough, that she was weak. She recognized the sensation. This was just the first time it had manifested itself into words.

_He's a weakness. You know what we do with weakness, Renzol._


	62. Chapter 62: Happy endings

Chapter 62: Happy endings

Episodes 83-91

XCOM Asia HQ

8th of October, 2015

Barracks, Room Delta

Stoli wheeled around in front of the full body mirror for the umpteenth time. Clad only in her underwear, the engineer's lips were pursed in disapproval as she examined the now-healed wound on her back. "Damn. It's gonna leave a scar."

"Hey at least it's on your back and not your butt like the last one!" Wootastic chimed in cheerfully from her rack. The small brunette had her chin propped up by her hand as she devoured another one of Stoli's chocolates.

The busty blonde stuck her ass out as she inspected the scar she'd received during operation Dark Tears in Fortaleza. Drake hadn't been the only one injured during the frantic bomb disposal back in June. Stoli gave the faded scar a slap before turning towards Wootastic. "At least that one's almost gone. I suppose I should count my blessings", she said with a frown, not at all convinced by her own words.

"That's the spirit!" Wootastic beamed, popping another expensive treat into her mouth with glee.

"Hey gimme that! Goddammit Woo I said you can have couple, not half the box!" Stoli snagged the pack of _Neuhaus_ away from her now sulking roommate. Giving Wootastic a stern look, she stuffed the Belgian truffles into her locker. "You're almost as bad as Bitchroy." The medbay's chocolate episode from three weeks ago had left a sour taste in Stoli's mouth, though she had to admit she kind of admired the assault's gall.

Wootastic rolled over in her bunk. Her limbs were like wet noodles as she fidgeted around restlessly. "Yeah but your chocolates are just so _gooooooood_. I'm bored. We should do something."

"Like what?"

The perky engineer jumped up in her rack, almost crashing her head into the bunk above. "Let's throw a _paaah-tay_! Stoli's Recovery Day All-Nighter Extravaganza! _Whoooo!_"

"You're on duty, idiot."

Wootastic slumped down with a pout. Looking back towards Stoli, she saw the gorgeous engineer upside down. "You're no fun. All you wanna do is just prance around in your sexy undies. _Boooo!_"

Stoli stuck her tongue out at the rascal, drawing a giggle out of her. Wheeling around to grab her clothes, the blonde engineer stopped in her tracks. Slowly turning back to Wootastic, Stoli's face was lit up with excitement as a realization came over her. "That's it, Woo! You're a genius!"

"I am?" Wootastic's expression was puzzled as she stared at her friend.

"Okay let's not go that far. But thanks for the idea hon!" Stoli leaned over and pinched the brunette's cheeks as she landed a wetly smacking kiss on her lips. "We're gonna shoot the world's first XCOM girl calendar!"

* * *

The clanging and banging of heavy machinery carried over from the workshop adjacent to the SHIV bay. Several unfinished prototypes of the Super Heavy Infantry Vehicle lined the walls of the gray metal room. The wide recess of the repair shop dominated the center, with robotic arms and implements connected to a nearby terminal looming over the cradle. FRAG-E was resting in its stall against one of the walls. The alloy SHIV looked lonely and naked without its superheavy laser.

Stoli cleared her throat to gain the attention of the crowd of female operatives. The engineer had a clipboard pressed against her full chest as she waited for the ruckus to die down. "I think that's everyone. You excited girls?!" The crowd responded with cheers and laughter. Out of the soldiers present, Volatile seemed the most hesitant as she shuffled uncomfortably on the edge of the group.

"Hell to the yes! Let's do this babe!" Kilroy's shout was followed by a few more as the excitement spread. Drake shot her friend an amused look. Kilroy going gung-ho over the issue was nothing if not expected.

Stoli answered the comment with a patient smile. When the crowd settled down again, she spoke up, "As Wootastic hopefully told half of you, this is my project. I'll run it as I see fit and that's _not_ negotiable. Everyone got that?" Not waiting for a response, Stoli carried on, "Now then, first order of business: try and keep quiet about this. I'm sure word will get out before we're done but I don't want any horny dicks slinking around the corners looking to catch a show." The engineer's words were met with murmurs of approval. "Secondly, I have the shooting schedule right here. I've prepared the preliminary timeslots but I need you to confirm what works for you. Once we're decided, you better not stand me up. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry." Stoli's smile didn't reach her eyes as she was answered by giggles and scoffs.

"Pinch me Drake. It's like prom all over again", Kilroy whispered as she leaned over to Drake. The exotic assault suppressed a giggle with her hand.

"Oh yeah, this is gonna be good!" Morgan yelled. Stoli grimaced at the assault's words; she had noted her presence and it was finally time to deal with it.

"I'm sorry Morgan, honey. You're not in."

The former marine frowned at the comment. "The hell you mean?"

Stoli sighed. "We already have two assaults. Three would be too many. I'm sure you understand."

Drake stepped forward with an amicable smile. "I can leave if you want in Morgan. It's not a big deal."

Stoli crossed her arms over her chest. Her voice was stern as she laid down the law, "No way, we need you Drake. We have enough white bitches as is, your caramel goodness is required. Sorry but this is how it's gonna be. Maybe next time Morgan."

The rejected assault gave Stoli one last disbelieving look before turning around. Stuffing her hands in her pockets, she set out for the door. Over her shoulder, she spoke her goodbye: "Whatever. Keep your fucking shit."

Stoli shot Wootastic a poisonous glare. Leaning over to whisper in the brunette's ear, her voice was absolutely seething, "I explicitly told you to get Kilroy and Drake _only_."

The small brunette glanced around with a nervous smile. "I'm sorry Stoli! She overheard and wanted to come and what was I supposed to say to that? Please don't be mad at me. _Please?_" Looking up at her friend, Wootastic put on her best puppy dog eyes in an attempt to guilt-trip. It was not very effective.

"We'll see about that", Stoli concluded as she turned back to face the crowd.

Wootastic's shoulders slumped down in defeat. "Aw, balls."

"Anyway, now that _that's_ dealt with", Stoli rolled her eyes, drawing chuckles from the group, "we can get on with things. Kilroy will be shooting right here, right now, since she's leaving on another one of her _spy adventures_ soon. Feel free to stick around and watch, we can settle some of the timetable issues while we're at it. Any questions?"

"We need twelve girls. Seeing as Pete is shooting, we're still missing one." Petete, looking a little bit lost as usual, glanced up from her camera at Vegabond's comment. The Canadian medic had joined the outfit couple of months ago from CSOR's Anti Xeno Force. The tanned woman's mysterious ways and love of Tarot cards had quickly earned her the nickname Gypsy.

"You're absolutely right. Thanks Gypsy, I totally forgot", Stoli said before turning over to Cell. The gunner regarded her warily as Stoli pulled up her most charming smile. "That's where you come in Cell. I want you to ask Renzol."

A burst of laughter echoed off the walls of the SHIV bay as Cell threw her head back. "She's not gonna do it. No fucking way."

"Oh come on. I'm sure she will if _you_ ask her!"

Cell was smirking as she shook her head. "Fine, I'll give it a shot. But you better have a replacement in mind, 'cause this ain't happening. Not in a million goddamn years."

Stoli wrinkled her nose in disapproval at the thought. She wasn't exactly swamped with choices for the rocketeer spot and unless she was willing to dress JBowles or Orgun in drag, it would have to be Pavehawk. The Italian was called Karakorum after the capital of the Mongolian empire from the 14th century and with good reason. Stoli was certain she had never seen the rocketeer smile, nor string more than a few words together. As difficult as it would be to get a decent shot out of Renzol, Stoli was convinced it would prove to be impossible with Pavehawk.

Pushing the troubles off her mind, Stoli turned towards Kilroy. "Let's get this underway then. You ready Kilroy?"

The assault answered with a grin, "Born ready."

* * *

"No. Absolutely not." Renzol stared at Cell in disbelief. Their training session had been nearing its end when the gunner had broken out the question. "No way", the rocketeer reiterated.

Cell leaned over the barbell. She knew it was a feeble attempt at persuasion, but she'd promised Stoli she'd at least try. "Oh come on Renzol. It'll be fun! You don't need to strip or anything. Just strike a few poses with the rocket launcher and it'll be over in no time. Even Volatile's in. Take one for the team, won't ya?"

The rocketeer's expression was apprehensive as she stared at Cell. "No", she refused once more. Turning away, Renzol shook her head. Her voice was quiet as she ended the conversation, "I don't want to. And I don't want to be asked again. Got it?"

Cell tightened her ponytail with a regretful grimace. She had anticipated the refusal, but the tone of the rocketeer had caught her off guard. She had expected a defiant, angry snap. Something she could laugh off and agree with. Not this sullen and downcast business. It made Cell feel guilty. "Alright. You wanna finish this set?" she asked.

"Nah, I'm good", Renzol said as she got up. The two friends removed the weights in silence. The awkward atmosphere lingered all the way to the locker room and the showers until Renzol quickly excused herself.

Cell cussed under her breath. She knew Renzol better than anybody in the outfit. She should've seen this coming and just told Stoli to fuck off. _Oh well, I'm sure it'll be fine. She'll tough it out in no time, _Cell thought as she slipped on a fresh tank top over her camo bikini. Renzol was a big girl. There was no point worrying about it. Already wearing everything she needed for her photoshoot, Cell headed towards the arsenal.

* * *

Stoli rubbed her brow in exasperation at the sight before her. Pavehawk was kneeling at the demolitions range, rocket launcher shouldered. The hard line of the rocketeer's jaw expressed no emotion. Crossing her arms, Stoli raised her voice, "It's no good. Let's try the previous pose again. And Pavehawk, dear, please try to smile a little more. Like I told you, alright?" The Italian answered with a silent stare. It made Stoli feel extremely nervous.

Petete, Stoli and Pavehawk moved down the range to the grenade pit. The demolitions area had a natural soil ground that had been stirred up by countless exercises. Three stalls were set up for rocketeers; the engagement distance stretched out to the far end of the cavern. To the back of the room, a dugout was set for practicing one's throwing arm. The ground around the blast zone was littered with metal shrapnel and splinters from the husks of defeated wooden aliens.

"Poor little Pavehawk", Gamage said from her position at the entrance of the room. Her voice was wistful as she smiled at her fellow Italian moving farther into the cavern.

Squint glanced at the sniper in surprise. "What do you mean?"

Gamage didn't take her eyes off Pavehawk as she explained in her quiet and gentle voice, "Can't you feel the ire from Stoli? It's the same with everyone. No one likes poor little Pavehawk."

Squint mulled on the words. "Poor" and "little" were definitely not the words she would've chosen to describe the rocketeer. While average in size, the Italian was solid muscle from top to toe. When it came to her demeanor, Squint doubted Pavehawk even wanted any friends. Every attempt the scout had made at approaching her had been met with cold stares and curt responses. "Hey, at least she's not Wolfer!" Squint said in an attempt to lighten up the conversation.

The smile never left Gamage's lips as she turned to regard Squint. "But everyone loves that oaf. Even Kilroy."

Of course it was true. Squint had known that as soon as she'd spoken up. There was something endearing about the huge assault's ignorance and crude humor. Kilroy and co. loved tearing him a new one whenever he fucked up, but it was all in good spirits. Pavehawk on the other hand… Squint could definitely see where Gamage was coming from.

The scout decided to change the topic altogether. "You coming to the TV room tonight? I hear Vherid's got a new show lined up."

The sniper had a glimmer in her eye as she turned to regard Squint. "Are you inviting me to watch the show? Or to watch you lash tongues with Kamikaze again?"

Blood rushed Squint's cheeks as she stumbled over her words. Before she had time to form a coherent sentence, Gamage cut in with a giggle, "It's fine Squint, really. You're just too adorable when you blush. I'll come." Squint was left glaring at Gamage as the sniper turned her attention back to the show going on down the field. She hadn't expected the sniper to have that sort of tease in her. Squint was learning more about her every day.

"Stupid…goddamn…" The scout grumbled and Gamage suppressed a titter, refusing to look back. Squint settled down and watched on as Stoli struggled to direct Pavehawk in the womanly charms. It would be her turn afterwards and Squint was eager to get started.

* * *

The mess hall was almost empty as dinner time neared its conclusion. Renzol was focused on her serving of pasta at the end of one of the long tables. She was glad no one was there to bother her. Stoli's calendar project had been all the rave around the base over the last couple of days and Renzol was absolutely sick of it. She had been able to put all of her old insecurities behind her during the war. A weapon wasn't meant to be beautiful or sexy. A weapon was only meant to kill. But the last few weeks and especially the last few days had seen those doubts about herself resurface. At least The Box had stayed blissfully quiet after the operation in Mendoza. But Renzol couldn't shake the memory of that cold voice, sniggering at her self-doubts.

"Hi Renzol. How are you?" Hunterhr's low voice brought Renzol back with a start. She glanced up from her food as the medic seated himself across from her.

"I'm fine", she muttered in response, feeling silly over her own reaction. The familiar anxiety leapt into her stomach once again. She hadn't been able to rid herself of that feeling since Mendoza; it was always present when she talked to Hunterhr these days. She had been avoiding the medic on purpose. She knew it was stupid, but knowing didn't make it any better.

Hunterhr smiled at her as he re-arranged the food on his tray. It was one of his peculiar habits that always amused Renzol. The medic cleared his throat before speaking, "I hear Stoli has an… interesting project going on."

Renzol snorted in contempt, "Interesting, yeah right. It's a bunch of nonsense if you ask me."

The medic raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I take it you're not participating then?"

"No way. Not that they didn't try." Renzol was still bitter over the whole issue. It hadn't been enough that Cell had asked her, but Stoli herself had tried to persuade the rocketeer later. The engineer had been begging, moaning and pleading with her until Renzol had lost her cool. She regretted it afterwards. Even though she had never gotten along particularly well with Stoli, she didn't want animosity between herself and the other operatives. It was bad enough she had never settled the spat with Daishi following Wolfer's friendly fire incident. Not to mention settling things with Wolfer himself.

Hunterhr smiled shortly, "That's a shame. I'm sure you would have looked great."

Renzol's heart skipped a beat. "What?" she blurted.

"I'm sorry. That was out of line." Hunterhr's face was solemn as he apologized. He was a very serious man indeed. It only made the unease residing inside Renzol worse.

The rocketeer pushed herself up. Grabbing her tray, she shot Hunterhr a doubtful look. "Well, I'll see you later, Hunterhr." Not waiting for a reply she briskly left the table, her appetite consumed by the rising anxiety.

A storm of emotional turmoil raged inside Renzol as she headed for the dish return. It wasn't so long ago when losing control of herself like this seemed like a ridiculous concept, an utter impossibility. _What's happening to me?_ Her hands were shaking as she pushed the remains of her meal into the bio waste bin. The plate slipped from her grasp, clattering against the hard metal of the counter. One of the cooks on the other side gave her a curious look. Renzol stuffed the cutlery into their compartments and took off without a word. She almost crashed into a member of the science team on her way out, drawing an angry query from the tall man. Muttering an apology, the rocketeer never lifted her eyes from the ground as she made her way towards the restroom.

The large bathroom on the main hallway next to the mess hall was always busy. Wheeling around in front of the doorway, Renzol started towards the barracks. One of the less used areas would suit her much better. She tried to calm herself as she walked through the hallways of the headquarters. The other operatives couldn't see her shaken like this. Balling her hands into fists, Renzol made her way towards the unused wings with haste. The quarters had been opened recently: they were expecting new recruits from various Council nation's Special Forces within a fortnight.

The restroom was empty as Renzol barged in. Dashing up to the nearest sink, she turned the faucet and splashed cold water all over her face. It barely helped. After drinking hard and long straight from the tap, the rocketeer straightened her back with a groan. Reaching for the paper towels, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

Renzol's short wet locks were plastered to her temples. Her high cheekbones could've been enviable on someone else; with her they only brought out the narrowness of her face. Her chin and nose were pointed, giving her features a wedge-like nature. Renzol's hands closed around the edge of the sink. Her knuckles turned white as the helpless feelings of angst turned to anger. _I don't care. I know I'm not beautiful and I don't care,_ she thought defiantly.

_You say that. Yet here you are._ The chilling voice sent shivers running down Renzol's spine, but something about its dreary nature brought her solace. She had tried to escape the truth long enough. Deep down, she had always known how this would end. After all, what was The Box if not an essential part of her? There was no point denying it any longer. She wasn't crazy. She wasn't hearing the words of some disembodied entity. It was her. It was the source of her strength. One can only deceive oneself for so long.

Renzol gazed into the mirror. The face looking back at her was emotionless. The storm inside her had died down; it was followed by serenity. _Yeah. I know what must be done,_ she thought. There was no response. Of course there wasn't.

She would be whole again soon enough.

* * *

The operative's mess was bustling with activity. Troopers lined the counter at the bar and filled out the sofas and chairs at the lounge. Upbeat music pumped throughout the room as Vherid managed the laptop linked to the huge sound system in the corner of the room. The tunes were a beating mixture of pop, electro and dubstep. No one knew where the Mexican sniper pulled his music from and no one cared. It was that good.

Orgun and Scuba were slinging drinks at the bar as usual. The Latino had fallen far behind in terms of skill; the Irishman was juggling bottles in the air with a jolly laugh as he mixed up a Long Island Iced Tea for Morgan. "Come on over to my office fatass! Let's see you sling those paper stacks!" Scuba mocked over the pumping of the music.

Orgun smiled apologetically at Morgan, ignoring the hollering lieutenant. "Apologies, milady. That bloke over there is a wee bit of a tool. Here's yer scoops!" The barkeep placed the tall glass in front of Morgan. The color of the drink was a vibrant orange, topped off with a yellow lemon slice and a purple straw.

The assault reached over and drank hard and long, ignoring the straw. Downing half of the drink in one go, she tossed the glass down with a satisfied sigh. "Thanks man. Been a rough fucking week."

"That's what the boozer's fer, bird. Drown yer sorrows and get gee-eyed, aye."

"A-fucking-men." Morgan lifted her drink in a toast and finished it.

The door to the mess swung open and an excited wave ran over the crowd. The music turned up, beating energetically as Stoli marched into the room. The engineer had a thrilled smile on her face as she lifted her arms above her head, accepting the cheers, catcalls and whistles of the crowd. Behind her, Wootastic and a few others from the project followed, holding stacks of calendars under their arms. Some of the girls were already in the operative's mess; Kilroy was the only one notable in her absence. The assault was still away on her deployment against EXALT.

The music was turned down and the crowd followed suit. Stoli slapped her hands together, clearing her throat. Looking over the full mess, she was positively beaming. "Ladies and crybabies of XCOM!" she greeted the attendance, eliciting an uproar of laughter and delight. "As you're all aware by now, we girls decided to put together a bit of a show for you!" The drunken crowd responded once again, this time accompanied by crashing of music as Vherid turned up the beats. Stoli chuckled, completely satisfied with herself. Looking towards Wootastic, she feigned puzzlement at the reaction. The little German party-girl was literally jumping up and down in excitement. Once she'd get some alcohol inside of her, there'd be no stopping the Woo-Hoo.

"Screw the ceremonies! Hand 'em out girls!" The yelling intensified at Stoli's shout as Wootastic, Petete, Squint and Gamage spread out around the mess. Stacks of calendars were passed down the line at the bar and into the farthest corners of the lounge. "One at a time! Don't you dare skip any of my girls!" Some operatives disregarded the instructions, but the majority waited patiently. On the cover, a pair of lacey black panties rested over a gauss rifle. The music quieted down and Stoli spread her arms out in a bow, signaling permission. "Proceed."

November was graced by Cell. The huge woman was dressed in a camo bikini, holding the gauss autorifle on her hip. She clenched a smoking cigar between her teeth and an army green beret sat on her head. Her well-defined muscles were gleaming with sweat and oil; her expression both intimidating and mischievous. The first entry was greeted by roars of approval and catcalls. Cell rose up at the lounge, flexing her biceps for the crowd.

"Daaayumn Cell! Drill me, gunnery sergeant!" The gunner laughed heartily at JBowles' call. Looking at the guys of the whiskey and cigar club, she was met with lifted eyebrows. Van Doorn approving, Medve curious. To her amusement Hypergeek didn't look up at all; the engineer was focused intently on the picture.

Next up was Wootastic. The December girl's picture was spot-on accurate of her personality. The energetic engineer was jumping up into the air, holding the arc thrower high above her head. She was wearing the standard brown-and-green BDU pants and a sports bra. There was nothing inherently sexy about the picture but her excited, utterly happy smile was enough to melt any man's heart. Calls of "_Woo!"_ and _"Bonus!" _filled the mess and the perky woman grinned. Leaping up, she lifted her cider pint in imitation of the picture, dousing her hapless fellow engineer Prowler with half of its contents.

Wootastic was followed by Merlin for January. The fiery Mexican was standing atop FRAG-E, dressed in black leather. A tight corset pushed her breasts up, followed by a leather g-string and stockings. High heels and elbow-length latex gloves were only topped by the whip she was holding. The end was wrapped tightly around the muzzle of FRAG-E's superheavy laser. The Mexican's reddish brown curls flowed over her shoulders and a black leather cap crowned a truly intimidating vision. Merlin's expression was devilish as she lifted an eyebrow at the camera.

Beer shot out of Awo's nose as he saw the picture. Merlin's cackling was louder than the booming applause of the crowd as she crashed against Drake, tears in her eyes. Instinct and Wolfer roared with laughter as they slapped Awo in the back. The captain was wearing a look of utter horror as he stared at Merlin.

The risqué picture of Merlin was followed by a more reserved one from Volatile at February. The infantrywoman had her back to the camera. Her dark, muscled back was bare as she held laser rifle in one hand, gauss rifle in the other. A beret covered her buzz cut hair and she wore an expression of determination as she looked to the side. The round sides of her breasts peeked out from under her arms; for someone as reserved as Volatile, it was definitely quite something.

The music turned up as Vherid pointed a finger at the Nigerian woman from his makeshift decks. The blush on Volatile's dark cheeks went unnoticed, but her embarrassed smile didn't. "Fucking-A, Queen!" Instinct shouted and he was quickly joined by everyone in the mess. The infantrywoman pushed her head down and brought a hand to her face, only to burst into a fit of giggles at the overwhelming praise.

March was Drake's territory. The caramel-skinned assault was caught in a stunning picture of a roundhouse kick. She was wearing gym shorts and a sports bra, leaving a ton of skin bare. Scars ran all over Drake; across her chest, along her arm, over her abdomen, covering her knee. Her ponytail swiveled along with the motion and her expression was focused; one of a true warrior.

Drake threw a few punches in the air and through the roar of approval, Morgan's voice carried through, "Fuck! You _are_ a better Sporty Spice than me!" Drake walked over to her fellow assault and the two friends embraced, any animosity over the photoshoot gone.

In the middle of the calendar at April was the prom queen herself. Stoli was sitting on one of the wooden benches in the locker room. She was wearing only a red thong, with a spread far too lewd. Her full breasts were free, the erogenous zones only covered by a pair of alien grenades she was holding in each hand. With scarlet red lipstick, flowing blonde hair and a seductive smile, the busty engineer was without a doubt the star of the show.

The crowd went ballistic over Stoli. Wolfer was drooling over the picture with the rest of the guys and the whistles of the female operatives were overwhelming. The vision of an engineer brushed her hair back with a smile, handing out winks and flying kisses. As she met Scuba's eyes, Stoli bit into her lower lip and placed a hand over her chest. El Zorro was nodding in approval. The lieutenant glanced down at the picture, giving his lips a small lick. Looking back at Stoli, his eyes were full of lust. The engineer turned away with a shake of her hair, leaning in to whisper in Wootastic's ear.

Daishi was the girl for May. The picture was shot from a low angle; the tall scout was bent over at the waist with laser strike rifle slung over her shoulders. She was resting her arms along the length of the weapon, wearing lacy white lingerie. The shot showed off her exquisitely long and toned legs and the Canadian's usually so friendly smile had a twist of flirt to it.

DSM glanced at her roommate from the end of the counter amidst the cheering. Before Daishi looked her way she leaned over to Iku, prodding the sniper in his side with a smirk, "You like that, huh?"

The Japanese man tried to slap away the teasing scout with a scowl. "Of course I do! What, now I'm gay as well as emo?" DSM responded with a violent series of cackles, almost falling off her stool.

The outfit's very own secret agent was the June girl. Kilroy was sitting astride FRAG-E wearing a pair of black panties and the gray jacket of the XCOM uniform, left flying open. The coat barely covered her breasts, leaving plenty of skin visible. A pair of trademark aviator sunglasses were perched on the brunette's nose as the covert operative pointed a laser pistol at the camera. Her lip was twisted into a sneer that would've made Elvis proud.

"There's my Angel of Death!" Scuba shouted from the bar as he slung an arm over Orgun's shoulders.

"Aye, that's our skank!" Orgun hollered in drunken laughter, drawing faux-pissed looks from Merlin and Drake.

Vegabond starred at July. The bronze-skinned medic was sitting on the edge of the medbay's operating table. She was wearing almost transparent black underwear and a doctor's coat. The white coat was buttoned right below her breasts and the push-up bra showcased a hefty amount of tanned cleavage. Medikits were spilling all over the table and between her fingers the medic held an injection needle.

"To future injuries!" Burncycle toasted and the rest joined him.

"Damn, what a rack!" Amineri called out and Vegabond turned to face the smoking hot Brazilian. Sticking her chest out, the medic jiggled her breasts to the roaring approval of the crowd. From behind, a very drunk Doubleumc dived in and grabbed on. Vegabond yelped in surprise at the sudden assault before laughing the flat-chested Brit's invasion off.

The outfit's little sister and mascot was up next at August. Squint saluted up at the camera, her pert cheeks and nose standing in attention with the rest of her body. She was wearing the full grays of the XCOM uniform, but the smile on her face shone bright like the sun in the heart of winter.

The operative's mess was filled with _aaaws_ and _oooohs _as Kamikaze smothered Squint against his broad chest. The tiny scout let out a small squeal as she was buried under her man's strong arms. She struggled to a position where her nose peeked out, red with embarrassment. The swooning of the crowd racketed up to whistles and catcalls as Kamikaze leaned in for a passionate kiss. The couple was soon left to their own devices as the rest of the operatives moved on to the last two entries.

The happy sniper decorated September. Gamage was sitting on the floor in one of the small arms lockers, knees together without a single piece of clothing covering her. She clutched the massive gauss anti-materiel rifle against her chest; the weapon was bulky and massive, way too large for a delicate looking girl like Gamage. Yet she was still the outfit's number one when handling the big gun. She looked off into the distance with a gentle smile and fresh flowers graced her hair; blue-and-white violets.

Steady chanting of _"Gamage!"_ filled the room as the sniper basked in the attention. A sudden look of realization rose to Scuba's face and he dove down under the bar counter. After a quick scour, the lieutenant jumped up with a red rose on hand. Snapping the stem, he dashed up behind Gamage and slipped the rose behind her ear to roaring applause. The sniper beamed at him before placing a quick kiss on the infamous Latino's cheek. Scubaman swayed for a moment before crashing backwards against Drake and Merlin. The women barely caught El Zorro in time as they cursed in surprise.

"The fuck you doing!?" Merlin shrieked as Scuba smiled blissfully up at her.

"Falling in love", the Argentinian replied and Merlin gagged in disgust while Drake doubled over in a fit of giggles.

Finally, there was Pavehawk. Poor little Pavehawk. October's rocketeer was a sight to behold. She was down on one knee, rocket launcher shouldered. Wearing the standard BDU pants and a green bikini top, she was definitely dressed for the occasion. But every single muscle in Pavehawk's body was tensed and her face was twisted into a horrific grimace. The Italian looked like she was about to blow open a mechtoid's core, pull the sectoid out, pummel its face in with her bare hands and finally scrape up whatever plaster remained for dinner.

The mess was silent for a moment. "Uh… great job Karakorum! You, ah, show those xeno scum!" JBowles complimented his fellow rocketeer tentatively. Sniggers ran through the crowd before some of the others picked up after Diesel, opting to praise Pavehawk for her combat skills. The Italian took it all with a stone cold face. Not a muscle flinched as she stood with her arms crossed next to Gamage.

Stoli rose up from the floor where she had sank in embarrassment. She had done her best and no one could say otherwise. Now it was time to party. The engineer looked towards Vherid and the sniper nodded in response before she even had time to speak. The pumping of the music turned up and Stoli yelled, "It's time to PARTY!"

"_WHOOOOOOOO!_" Wootastic's scream pierced through the crowd like the whistling of a shell. Some operatives covered their ears as the small brunette climbed up Kamikaze's back with a fierce leap. The gunner laughed as his countrywoman's thighs closed around his head for support. Wheeling towards the bar, they were just in time to catch the bottle of vodka Orgun slung over. Wootastic grabbed it eagerly and turned bottoms up.

It was indeed time to party.

* * *

The old copy of _War and Peace_ weighed heavily under Renzol's arm as she rounded the corner and left the barracks area. The orange halogen lights had been turned down for the evening, leaving dark shadows lurking in the corners of the metal corridors. People would be partying far into the night no doubt, but Renzol didn't care. She had always enjoyed the scenery around the base at night more than the festivities. It reminded her of that night after Atlanton's death. In a way, that had been the start of it all. She may have gained her resolve after Frag's funeral, but what good was resolve without the tools to carry out your will? The shadows helped her remember where she came from.

_To my son Hunterhr on the day he answered the Call of Duty: always remember who you are and where you came from._ Renzol blinked as she recalled the words scribbled on the cover of the worn tome. It was queer where your mind took you, what connections it could make. It seemed strangely fitting to Renzol. Coming to another junction in the hallways, she headed towards the less used walkway looping around to the back of the arsenal. Only base security came here on their patrols; the entirety of the corridor contained only one small arms locker.

Standing under the fluorescent lights next to the SAL was Hunterhr. The medic's brown skin gleamed under the orange glow and his thick cheeks and stout frame reminded Renzol of a black teddy bear. The sight stung her heart, but only a little. Hunterhr looked up as he heard the approaching footsteps. "Hey", the medic greeted her. Smiling, of course. He was always smiling, ever so gently.

"Hi." Silence followed Renzol's reply as she came to a halt in front of Hunterhr. She didn't know what else to say. Looking down at the book under her arm, she didn't hesitate. The smooth, worn leather was frayed at the edges, scraping against Renzol's palms as she offered the tome to Hunterhr. He accepted it with a curious look.

"What, did you finish it already?" the medic asked with a chuckle. He knew it was impossible; Renzol had only been halfway through when they'd last discussed the story three days ago.

Renzol took in a deep breath. There was pressure in her chest; the familiar tingle of anxiety in her stomach. But it all eased as she let the air out. She spoke with an unwavering voice, "I don't need to. I already know how this story ends. There is no happy ending."

Hunterhr frowned at Renzol's words. Looking from the rocketeer to the book, the crevices on his brow slowly smoothed out as the words sank in. Renzol met his eyes, her face serious and solemn. She could see he was struggling for words, but she didn't want to drag it out any longer. Renzol turned away and started back the way she had come from. Coming to a halt mid-step, she turned and spoke her farewell, "See you around in training, gunnery sergeant." Her steps echoed in the hallway as Hunterhr was left standing alone under the orange lights before small arms locker A-04.

There was only one thing left to do for Renzol. She weaved her way through the corridors of the base until the door leading to the martial arts room stood before her. This had always been her favorite place to meditate. Pushing inside, she flicked the light switch. Only the row of lights at the very back of the hall turned on, providing a pleasant gradient of illumination.

Renzol made her way over to the side where a red punching bag was hanging from the ceiling. Sometimes, when she was deep in meditation, the rocketeer could still hear strikes landing on hard leather as she had sparred deep into the night with Sergeant Foogleman all those months ago. Renzol had asked the steel cold woman how to become strong. _"You have to find out for yourself"_, the scout had told her. She had.

Sitting down, Renzol crossed her legs and straightened her back. Breathing slow and deep, she cleared her mind. She was calm and tranquil. She had thought this would be difficult and painful but as the moment approached, she felt liberated.

Renzol summoned forth the face of Hunterhr and all of the emotions that came with it. The rising panic in the TV room; his abashed expression as he'd apologized afterwards; his soothing voice as he'd read the words of the German philosopher to her; the stress and apprehension she'd felt after her mistake in Mendoza. Renzol took all of it and closed it inside The Box, until only his visage remained.

With a mixture of heartache and relief, Renzol locked the gently smiling face of Hunterhr inside The Box.

* * *

Author's note: If you'd like to stay up to date on the progress of the next chapter and any potential delays (like the skipped last week), make sure to follow me on twitter. You can find me under the username vesmolol. I tweet about A&amp;I related stuff and sometimes about my exploits in CS:GO.


	63. Chapter 63: Human Revolution

Chapter 63: Human Revolution

25th of October, 2015

_The office was dark, illuminated only by the burning red eye of the fire alarm above the door, and the dim natural light from outside. The view from the window was unobstructed, but there was no moonlight shining my way. The air reeked of dust and ozone. The foreboding rumble of thunder carried from a distance, the kind you can feel in your bones. I closed the door behind me with a muffled creak. I verified the room was clear and slipped the pistol back into its concealed holster in the small of my back. Excitement vibrated within me, resonating seamlessly with the thunder._

_I crossed over to the window in four long strides. Even though the room was located on the second floor you could still see the clouds, rolling in with urgency over the slate gray landscape of apartments and office blocks. Their deep murky depths hid the key for my escape. How fitting that Mother Nature herself wanted rid of this cancer within her. The thought made me smile._

_I turned around and scanned the writing desk, looking for my prize. I found it below the table: a shadow tucked away from curious eyes. "Come to mama", I whispere__d. The platitudes and clichés never got old. My love for this job had always been strong, almost as strong as the hatred for these motherfuckers I was fighting. Slipping a note out of my jeans, I reached a hand to the keypad of the safe. Red digital numbers appeared on the interface as I punched in the code. Their glow tingled my insides; Spy Adventures indeed. 82589-27865-4771__—I reached for the three to seal the deal and be done with it. One step closer to you, my dear. The downfall of EXALT._

_The realization came too late, as it did every single time. The electronics inside the lock beeped frantically and I tried to pull away. The explosion consumed the office and fire scorched my face and chest, throwing me back. The piercing nails of the window sliced me open as I flew through with a resounding crash. Lightning split the skies and the clouds doused me with their contents as I fell._

_I kept on falling, screaming as the abyss stretched on under me, the reality of the world torn asunder in spiraling madness._

* * *

Kilroy jumped up with a muffled scream. The clock on the medbay's wall ticked on in its ponderous fashion. The soft green glow of its hands showed it was barely past four am. The assault fell back in her bed with a frustrated groan._ Every night with this goddamn shit._ Kilroy's brow and back were soiled with cold sweat. She knew sleep wouldn't be coming back to her. So she just waited, mulling on her thoughts. She hated it: having to lie down in her bed, unable to do anything. It was against her nature.

_I was careless,_ Kilroy thought. She had barely survived the covert operation a fortnight ago: the booby-trapped safe had sent her flying out the window and down into the garden below. Only by sheer luck had she landed in a hedgerow. The storm had been a godsend too. Kilroy had dragged her burnt and broken body to the escape vehicle down the street and only due to the vision-limiting downpour had she been able to escape the AO. She couldn't remember anything of her drive back: how she hadn't crashed and died was a miracle.

Time passed as Kilroy waited. Orgun was snoring loudly on the bed next to her. The Irishman had taken a grievous hit from a muton's plasma rifle and would still be out for around three weeks. Sometimes Kilroy felt envious of the cheerful rocketeer, of his ability to sleep the nights away with no reservations. But when she thought of the reasons keeping her up at night, she could only be happy for Orgun.

EXALT had become an obsession for Kilroy. The idle weeks spent in the medbay had driven her to the brink of insanity; not being able to train, work or go out on operations. Bullshitting with Orgun had only kept her distracted for so long. Finally Kilroy had begged Senior Agent Samaras for access to the EXALT case files. The Greek had been adamant at first, but when Kilroy had kicked and cursed her wounds open he had promised to consider it. The next morning Drake had brought her some of the files and folders. _"For your eyes only", _she had told Kilroy. Before nightfall, Drake or someone from the Covert Operations Department would come and take the files away, only to bring her what she wanted the next morning.

Hajid and the Sons of the Prophet, the Clean-up, the Neo-Nazis, Deepthroat… the list of operations carried out against EXALT numbered in the dozens now. Kilroy had gone over the files before, as had everyone involved in the agency. But there had to be something else there, something they had missed. Over and over again, Kilroy absorbed the case reports and files related to them, the intelligence and clues they had brought back. Hannover, Stockholm, Jakarta, Abuja, Baltimore, Oulu, Toronto… the number of cities related to EXALT in one way or the other stretched on. Sighting of a field squad. A traced phone call. An address raided by The Council's local agents, turning up nothing but homegrown pot. But somewhere in there… the answer was somewhere in these files. Kilroy could feel it in her gut.

The door to the medbay slid open at twenty to five. Drake walked in with bounce in her step, dressed in a tank top and sweatpants: the assault's brow was still glimmering with sweat as she had been doing her morning laps around the corridors of the sport's section. Under her arm she carried a binder with a stack of files inside. Kilroy rose to a sitting position with a grin. Reaching her arms out, she beckoned impatiently. "Gimme, gimme!" she whispered urgently.

A rueful smile tugged at the corner of Drake's mouth, "You should lay off for a while, 'Roy. See if dropping this for a day actually lets you sleep."

Kilroy snagged the binder from Drake and quickly thumbed through the files. She didn't take her eyes off the papers as she answered, "I'll sleep when I'm dead, sister. Besides, you really think I could get any shut-eye with this fucking automated shit-generator blaring right next to me?" Drake glanced towards Orgun at the comment. The smile didn't quite reach her eyes. Kilroy looked up, her brow furrowed in agitation, "Where are the Baltimore files?"

Drake shrugged, "Samaras said he wanted his boys to go over those."

"Fucking cunt", Kilroy grumbled as she slapped the binder shut.

"Hey, they're trying to do the same thing you are! And quite frankly have a better shot at it too. Look at yourself. You're a mess, Kilroy." Drake sighed and brought a hand up to cover her eyes. Sinking down to the bed, her tone was softer as she continued, "Sorry. Let's not have this stupid argument again. There's actually something I want to talk to you about."

Kilroy regarded Drake warily. She loved the Indian-American like a sister but her obsession with EXALT and disregard for her own health had not gone down well with Drake. Kilroy knew she only cared about her, that the arguments were only a sign of the affection they shared for each other. But she couldn't bring herself to give a fuck right now. She was possessed. She didn't need love and affection; she needed blood. EXALT's blood.

"What's up?" Kilroy asked. Orgun was still snoring away contently. If past mornings were anything to go by, he wouldn't be up before eight.

Drake stared at her hands for a while longer before turning towards Kilroy. "I'm volunteering. For the genetics program."

Kilroy lifted her eyebrows at the news. She wasn't really surprised: she knew Drake and the resolve she had to protect Earth. But it was still a big decision, and one Kilroy hadn't expected her sister to make so quickly. Just thinking about it made the frustration within her flare. They had told her she would have to recover before being accepted. One more thing this injury was keeping her away from. "How do you feel about it?" Kilroy muttered, pushing her own selfish feelings aside.

"I don't really know", Drake said with a frown. "I mean, I talked with Doctor Vahlen and… it's just so bizarre I don't even know what to think about it. There was a lot of scientific mumbo-jumbo about our natural bioelectrical fields and how MELD can be used to enhance that. Essentially give you a sixth sense, to feel the presence of other living beings nearby. Supposedly it's completely safe but…" Drake trailed off as her eyes wandered to the white-tiled floor.

"But you're not convinced?" Kilroy helped her along.

Drake shook her head. "No, if she says it's safe I believe her. There are some side effects she mentioned but it's not health related." Drake was silent for a moment before turning to regard the wounded assault, "Is this right, Kilroy?" The Indian woman looked perplexed, almost lost.

Kilroy had never been one to dwell on issues of morality and existentialism. She mulled her tongue around in her mouth before answering, "'Victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, victory however long and hard the road may be; for without victory, there is no survival.' There's only one question I care about Drake. Does it help us win this war? If the answer is yes, then it has to be right."

"Whatever it takes, huh?" Drake mused as she leaned against her knees, staring off into the distance.

"Whatever it takes." The medbay was silent but for the ticking of the clock and the steady snoring of Orgun. Kilroy's voice was playful as she broke the silence, "Fucking EXALT. I wanna be Supergirl too!"

Drake snorted up a small laugh as she rose from the bed, "Better watch it, you're gonna get left behind!"

"You might be used to me leading the pack but I'm no slouch catching up either!"

Drake smiled down at her sister with affection. "Get well soon, 'Roy. I'll pick up the files at the usual time."

"See ya Drake." The Indian assault left the medbay and Kilroy turned her attention back to the binder. The answer was here. She was sure of it.

* * *

Jonas suppressed a yawn as he followed the mice with disinterest. He had seen it all a thousand times now and the wonder of the initial findings had already died down to dull curiosity. He had discovered that years ago in his career: no matter the breakthroughs you make in science, it all becomes mundane and part of your daily routine in no time. If only the masses knew how painstaking it all was, they'd lose their enthusiasm too.

The floor of the large metal cage was filled with litter. Ramps and plastic platforms dominated the vertical space, allowing the small albino rodents to express themselves. One of the red-eyed bastards leapt three feet into the air and latched onto a pole running across two platforms. Pulling itself up, the animal quickly scampered across to grab the treat Jonas had slipped into a bin on the edge of the cage.

"Bravo, Vahlen. You really are the brightest and fastest of them all", the scientist muttered sardonically as he marked the results down in his notepad.

Jonas had been working in the Department of Xenological Sciences, or DoXS, since day one. _"Xenological, I get it! It's like biological except it's xeno! As in aliens! Ha-ha-haa!"_ Doctor Vahlen hadn't exactly appreciated his wit but Jonas didn't care. He was here to do a job and he had been chosen because he was one of the best. He wasn't a project leader but his expertise when it came to hands-on work with mouse models was renowned. Of course his group leader, that old fart back at Cambridge, had reaped most of the glory for the work he had done helping out the world's top universities with their cloning problems, but Vahlen had only needed one interview to know who the man behind it all was. Jonas had accepted the invitation in a heartbeat, regardless of all the fine print in the contract.

The Swedish molecular biologist had seen a lot of things during his ten years in academia. All of it had lost its luster in time, causing his cynicism to take over. All except MELD. The substance was a true marvel of the universe: if there was one argument to make Jonas believe in God, it would be MELD. How could such a thing exist otherwise? What type of a creature could have made something like this? A mixture of nanomachinery and biological matter coming together in perfect harmony… he sometimes still doubted it all, thinking it had to be some sort of collective mistake.

MELD had accelerated the rate of DoXS's research a hundred-fold, no, a _thousand_-fold. Proteins they had trouble purifying; slip a bit of MELD in and the substance seemed to instinctively know how to fix the problem. Tertiary structure of the enzyme stabilized, production and purification done with no problems. Difficulty cloning alien DNA into their production cell lines? MELD's got you covered. Genetic material incorporated into the production organism in no time, with a success rate of over 80%. The work that should've taken months, years, in some cases decades to accomplish all carried out within a fortnight. It was madness: if the human race was to survive this invasion, the scientific community would be thrown into a whirlpool of chaos over their findings. Jonas smirked at the thought. If there was one thing he would never get tired of, it was MELD. Well, at least for now.

The door to the small test animal lab opened and a red-haired woman walked in. Her bright, green eyes were curious as she regarded Jonas from behind her spectacles. "I thought I'd find you here. You up for lunch, Jonas?" The woman crossed over to where Jonas was leaning against the white laboratory table in the middle of the room.

"Hey Red. Give me a minute, I'm just wrapping up", the blonde scientist answered. Jonas was a tall, handsome man and he knew Red was more than interested. But there were workplace ethics to be considered: after all, he was nothing if not a professional.

"So it's finally happening today. You excited?" Red asked as Jonas moved over to the cage, feeding another treat into one of the bins. This time several mice reacted, scampering their way over.

Jonas scribbled the results into his notepad as he humored his colleague, "Excited? We're incorporating alien genetics into our own troops based only on a couple of animal models and computer simulations, potentially risking their lives and bypassing the entirety of the self-regulating nature of the scientific community, essentially elevating ourselves on par with God. Of course I'm excited! Doesn't change the fact that it's fucked up beyond all recognition. Or 'FUBAR' as those poor soldiers might say."

Red looked surprised as she surveyed Jonas, "Nobody's forcing them. It's strictly voluntary."

Jonas barked up a cynical laugh, "Yeah, right. I'm sure it is. The brass tells them to jump and they ask how high." There was a pause as Jonas looked up from his notepad. "'Oh I don't know. How about this two-story building with those new muscle fiber density augments of yours?'"

Red stared at the Swedish scientist in disbelief before suppressing an abrupt laugh. "That's dark. I hope you're wrong."

"Who knows", Jonas shrugged. Tossing his notepad on the table, he turned to face Red. His voice was uncharacteristically passionate as he let it all out, "But consider this: we are in the vanguard of mankind, of science. With no one to stop us if we lose sight of what we're doing. What we've accomplished thus far is insanity, pure and simple. This was science fiction eight months ago, but given another year it will be ubiquitous. I have no doubt these implants will be successful to at least some degree. If they really lead us to victory, what'll happen after the war? You really think Vahlen and the rest of the higher-ups are willing to relinquish their position and be regulated by the rest of our community? Where does playing God end? Next thing you know, I'm working on a mouse model to incorporate these changes into gametes. I've already scribbled up a protocol for it, should be child's play with MELD. You realize what that means, right? Self-controlled evolution."

Red had pulled away from Jonas, reeling as the man ended his rant. She quickly hid the look of shock and surprise under one of dismissal, "Yeah right. There you go again with your visions of Doomsday."

A twisted smile rose to the Swede's face. "But of course you're right. I'm sure it'll be _fine._ Come on, let's grab some lunch", Jonas said as he wrapped an arm around the petite scientist's shoulders. Leading the still somewhat flustered woman out of the lab, Jonas was smiling on the inside. Whatever came of all this, he was eager to find out. He'd definitely made the right call by sticking in the field.

Jonas glanced down at Red, taking in the freckled features of her face. She didn't look half-bad with her pert cheeks and tiny nose: not exactly a glamour model but definitely not ugly either. Maybe he would enjoy himself tonight.

It was a wonderful feeling to be truly excited for something again.

* * *

Awo was leaning against the counter in the operative's mess. A crowd of people was gathered on the other side, listening to Medve's somewhat confused explanations on the effects of neural damping. Awo let the captain's words turn into background noise; he had already heard it straight from Doctor Vahlen. The recently promoted major let out a sigh as he dwelled on the issue at hand.

The commander had informed the officers of XCOM about the opening of the new genetic modification program first. It was one hundred percent voluntary, but he had mentioned the rest of the troops might have an easier time making the decision if the officers showed the way. Of course, they had all volunteered. Each one of them from Scubaman to Van Doorn knew they needed every edge they could get on the field: the enemy was already pulling ahead in terms of firepower. Wherever the aliens' homeworld was located, they had clearly started transporting over more and more resources for the invasion.

Awo tapped absentmindedly on the hardwood surface of the counter as he thought back to the conversation with Vahlen. _"We've taken to calling this particular modification adrenal neurosympathy. By utilizing MELD and the advanced cloning vectors developed during the invasion, we are able to incorporate features of the muton's physiology into your own. I'm sure you know this better than any of us in the labs Major, but the muton is a fierce combatant capable of driving its kin on with ferocity. This isn't just due to the aggressive nature of the beast's call: there is actually a chemical nature to it. During periods of heightened aggression, the muton releases pheromones that increase the combat capabilities of its kind. With this modification, you could do the same, Major."_

"_Are there any… side effects, Doctor?"_

The good doctor had smiled at his question. She had been very matter-of-fact as she answered, _"The modification itself is safe, but there are some things to consider. What we are actually doing here is modifying the adrenal glands, specifically the chromaffin cells in the adrenal medulla." _Vahlen had brought up an image of the kidney and the adrenal glands on her tablet. Awo had nodded along with the explanations even though the majority of it all had been thoroughly lost on him. _"The medulla is where the catecholamines epinephrine and norepinephrine are produced. What we want to do is clone the modified muton gene into the chromaffin cells responsible for producing these hormones. With the modification, the cells will produce an additional compound. This synthetic hormone binds the complex formed by epinephrine and the adrenoceptors of the sympathetic nervous system. By doing so it stabilizes the complex and allows that pumping effect of adrenaline to last longer. Should be helpful on the battlefield, don't you think so, Major?"_

"_Yeah, I guess so." _Awo had scratched the back of his head as he waited for the doctor to continue.

"_To make things even better, this compound acts like a pheromone: it is partially vented out of your body through the sweat glands. The rate of diffusion through the air is immensely fast and other squad members within proximity of…" _Vahlen had swiped the screen a couple of times before settling on a sheet of complex calculations, the result of some computational simulation, _"Proximity of around ten meters, give or take a few. The members of your squad within that range should also benefit from the effects of the compound."_

Awo had frowned. _"So will I be in a constant state of adrenaline-induced stress then? That doesn't sound good."_

"_Oh but of course not!" _Doctor Vahlen had assured him, _"The regulation of this gene's transcription is linked into highly stressful situations. Basically, to those found on the battlefield. Being injured or killing an enemy, these are the types of circumstances which release a massive amount of diverse hormones in your system. However, I won't bore you with the painstaking details of the cellular communication pathways. Simply put: kill aliens, and you'll be more effective at killing even more aliens."_

"_Hell yes, doc. Now you're speaking my language."_

Vahlen had looked thoroughly pleased with herself at Awo's words. _"Now that I've gone through the mechanism of action, I can answer your question about side effects. We expect an increase of around one nanomolar in your resting venous plasma adrenaline levels. This is due to the modifications to the chromaffin cells, though it should be noted that it's still completely within the physiological range even with your elevated levels. Due to this higher amount of adrenaline in your system, you might notice a slight increase in stress. If this elevation should for any reason escalate and persist, weight loss, high blood pressure, excessive sweating and palpitations are all possible. However, this is incredibly unlikely and can be treated should it happen. We will monitor your wellbeing and physiological state with regular follow-up tests. The nature of this kind of sacrifice for humanity is not lost on me, Major Awo. All of us here at DoXS are extremely thankful for the work you are doing on the field."_

Awo came back from his thoughts just as Medve was finishing his explanation. JBowles was amongst the crowd, looking quite exhilarated at the news. "So we'll be fearless after this? That's fucking awesome!" the rocketeer exclaimed.

Medve ran a hand over his bald head. His brow was furrowed as he struggled to deliver the effects the modification would have on his brain, "Not… really. It's more that you won't get that hesitation you sometimes feel when facing danger."

Hunterhr had been pacing back and forth on the edge of the crowd. The medic looked uncharacteristically agitated and Medve's words finally made him speak up. Awo had never heard him raise his voice but now the medic's outcry quieted the rest of the crowd, "Don't you see? That's what fear _is!_"

The shout made Medve's frown deepen and the gunner turned to look at Hunterhr, clearly displeased. Regardless, the medic carried on, "You are all okay with this? Nobody objects? Who gave Doctor Vahlen the right to play Frankenstein? We are talking about mixing human and alien genetics! How can you be so callous about this? The moral and ethical implications alone… even with years and years of research it would still be wrong, now it's also dangerous! Don't you see? How can you all be so blind?!" The rest of the operatives had turned to face Hunterhr. The medic's expression was disbelieving as he faced the quiet stares. He knew those looks. He'd been getting them his entire life: the sniggering looks of simple people with no capacity to consider the big picture.

Merlin was the one to answer him with her trademark ferocity, "What the fuck are you getting so angry for? Medve can do whatever he wants and if it helps us out there I'd say fucking pump every last motherfucker full of MELD."

The Mexican's sharp comment was followed by mutters of agreement. Drake cut in, her face solemn as she tried to reconcile, "Congo, look. I get it, I really do. It's a huge issue and a massive change, for all of us. But we need every edge we can get. I have no doubt Doctor Vahlen and the commander have considered all aspects of this and come to the conclusion: it's necessary. Victory at all costs, right?"

Hunterhr met Drake's eyes. Slowly, he shook his head. "Sometimes, the cost is too high Drake." Hunterhr turned and left the operative's mess. Doubtful and angry looks followed him out. Drake let out a heavy sigh as she brought up a hand to rub her eyes.

Awo followed the exchange in silence, mulling on his thoughts. He could really use a drink. Maybe a cigarette, too. He'd quit smoking after getting injured on his first operation back in March. Whenever he saw Merlin at the bar with a smoke between her fingers, the urge was there. To just walk up to her and light up, take the spiteful cackling of her laughter on the chin and let the hot smoke seep into his lungs. Awo sank deeper against the counter, the cool, dented surface scraping his elbows.

_Never look back. There's nothing good in the rear-view mirror anyway._

* * *

28th of October, 2015

Psionics laboratory, XCOM Asia HQ

The psionics program had come online a few days after genetics. The Council's reports from across the globe indicated permanent changes to people coming in contact with alien materials and the aliens themselves. Civilians going mad in broad daylight, clutching their heads and inciting widespread panic and chaos. None of them had survived for long, making investigating the phenomenon difficult. With the sectoid captives the ground ops had brought back, DoXS had been able to shed some light on the issue.

The researchers of the psionics project had taken to calling it The Gift. The theory that every human being carries potential for The Gift to at least some extent had become more and more popular amongst those involved in the project. Being able to use one's own mind to communicate with and manipulate those of other's: telepathy was no new concept to humanity. Facing the reality that some of the mediums and clairvoyants may have actually had budding amounts of The Gift instead of being frauds was a hard one for many men and women of science to face. But ultimately, the discoveries in the field far outweighed the regrets of past.

Letting The Gift go untrained was dangerous, potentially lethal. Thus every single person involved in the XCOM project was decreed to undergo psionic scanning to determine those Gifted. Further training would help them control these powers: when it came to the ground operatives, the training would be taken above and beyond. To turn one's mind into a weapon; the enemy would finally know fear like the billions of humans had in the wake of this conflict.

Hunterhr was apprehensive as he approached one of the capsules standing upright in the middle of the circular room. The steel walls around him had a deep blue hue to them. A shiver ran down the medic's spine, starting from the base of his skull, tingling behind his eyes. He was wearing a white gown but the air wasn't all that cold; the chills were something completely different.

Hunterhr didn't want to be here. The whole idea of psionics and being psychic made him feel queasy. It wasn't the stark disgust he felt for the genetic modifications, but it still felt wrong. He reached a hand to the edge of the open capsule. The metal was smooth against his palm. The interior was padded with purple cushions; at the head-end of the contraption, several sensors lined the walls. The sight reminded Hunterhr of a coffin. Breathing deep, he hesitated.

"_Is there something wrong, gunnery sergeant?" _a female voice asked over the intercom. Hunterhr looked up at the words. A panel of wide windows circled one side of the room; behind a large terminal a group of scientists clad in white coats watched on. Hunterhr turned back towards the capsule and stepped in.

_Orders are orders,_ the medic thought. The padding was comfortable against his back, but he could feel the cold alloys of a sensor pressing against the back of his head as he settled against the headrest. Slipping his arms into the horizontal tubes extending along the sides, Hunterhr couldn't help but feel he was being crucified.

"_Are you ready, gunnery sergeant?"_ the voice asked and Hunterhr nodded. Restraints closed over his arms and ankles and the machinery around him came to life with a low hum. The lid started its ascent from the bottom and it soon reached his face. Hunterhr saw the last sliver of light disappear and then he was completely encased within the psionic cradle.

A series of violet lights lit up before him. Their glow was dim in the darkness; almost like stars in the night sky. Hunterhr couldn't hear the machinery through the sealed pod but he could feel the movement as he was reclined backwards. Finally the movement came to a halt at the horizontal plane and a quiet voice whispered through the speakers in the walls, _"Are you comfortable, Hunterhr?"_

"Yes", the medic answered. He was focusing on his breathing; he wasn't claustrophobic but the situation definitely made him anxious.

"_Good. We'll start with a simple scan. Just think whatever thoughts come to mind. You can also focus on the lights if you start to feel ill or otherwise have a hard time. If you begin to panic, just let us know and we'll stop the scan."_

"Understood."

"_Alright, here we go."_ Hunterhr waited for something to happen, some sort of stimulus. But nothing came. They had told him it would be a simple scan after all. Hunterhr turned his attention to the lights above. He knew they were right up to his face, but it really did seem like they were distant as the stars. Their glow was in constant motion: ponderously moving from soft purple into hues of deep violet.

_I wonder how she's going to see them,_ Hunterhr thought as he let his mind wander. He tried not to think of Renzol too much. She had made it clear there would be nothing between them, but Hunterhr couldn't help but miss the time they had spent together. She wasn't like the rest of the women in the outfit who were always joking around and making crude remarks. Hunterhr had gotten used to it during his military career: it was after all the easiest way to adapt to such a life. Or maybe the women who ended up in the army were like that to begin with. Renzol was a refreshing exception. She was serious and solemn, and her dedication to the cause ran deep. Perhaps too deep. Hunterhr could feel it in her; something lying buried under that façade of steel cold purpose. A gentler and softer person. The thought made him feel lonely. _Maybe I pushed her too hard._

The preliminary scans were followed by directed experiments: focusing on a specific thought to activate certain areas of the brain. Signals on various wavelengths were sent through Hunterhr's head, some indistinguishable, some humming through the bones in his skull. Through it all, the glow of the stars above kept Hunterhr calm. Until finally, it was over.

The cradle started its motion once again, this time moving Hunterhr back to an upright position. The stars died down and the lid opened with a hiss. The restraints on the medic's limbs released him and Hunterhr stumbled out of the pod. He felt a little sick as his head pounded: he wasn't prone to migraines but from his medical training he recognized the sharp throbbing behind his right eye.

"How are you feeling?" a brunette woman wearing a white coat inquired as she approached Hunterhr.

"I'm fine", the medic mumbled, squeezing his right eye shut. Massaging his temple, Hunterhr opened his eyes and looked at the scientist. "What's the result?"

"Regretfully, the tests were all negative. You are not Gifted, gunnery sergeant."

Hunterhr let out a sigh of relief. "Can you show me out of here?" he asked, the pain behind his eye intensifying with every passing second.

"Oh, of course. I'm sorry, this way." Hunterhr followed her out of the circular test chamber and into the preparation room. The scientist left him alone in the white room and Hunterhr stripped the patient's gown off. His clothes were neatly folded on a hospital cot; in stark contrast, DSM's were tossed unceremoniously on the adjacent bed, with one of her boots leaning against the other, almost falling over. Hunterhr frowned in disapproval as he slipped into his gear. The migraine was making him morose.

The psionics lab was located on the lowest level of the base. Hunterhr made his way out of the premises and through the sepia-colored metal hallways. Passing by the door to the genetics lab, he could feel the pain, throbbing red-hot in his skull. It had spread to cover the entire right side of his head. Grimacing, he hurried towards the access lift.

With the headquarters burying itself deeper and deeper underground, the access lift had been expanded to include elevators for personnel. The great shaft of the lift was lit up by rows of fluorescent lights on the sides, embedded into Earth itself. Hunterhr crossed over to the side where the smaller elevators were carved into bedrock. He pressed the call button and waited. After a moment, a voice spoke up through the speaker, _"State your name and business."_

"Gunnery Sergeant Hunterhr, returning from psionic testing to level 1", the medic said. He clenched his teeth at the pain that followed. The entirety of his head was now pulsing and tears filled his eyes. The elevator chimed and the gleaming metal doors opened. Hunterhr stumbled inside.

Steadying himself against the wall of the small cubicle, Hunterhr reached for the top button. His brown finger stabbed fruitlessly against the wall as he missed his mark. Shaking all over, Hunterhr collapsed against the wall, his palm hitting the button and causing the elevator to begin its slow ascent. Sinking down to his knees, Hunterhr gagged in pain. _Oh my God what is happening? Am I dying?_ The agony burned through his consciousness. A screaming hot iron jammed itself into Hunterhr's brain and he fainted, sprawling across the floor.

Stars of purple and violet danced in the darkness. From somewhere far, far away, a quiet chime carried over. But Hunterhr could only focus on the stars, stretching on for light years upon light years. Planets of multi-colored gas with ice rings flew past him; rocky asteroid fields and comets with marvelous tails traveling across the universe; a star going supernova engulfed him with its vibrant crimson and still he traveled on, the cosmic dust of the explosion seeping into his very consciousness.

"Hey! Hey soldier, you alright? Fuck! I'm calling the paramedics." The urgent voice and violent shaking brought Hunterhr back. His mouth was dry and his tongue felt like a bloated, limp piece of meat, fast on its way to clogging his trachea.

Hunterhr coughed and grabbed onto the man's arm. "I'm alright. I'm a medic", he managed to croak the words. Blinking, he stared into the lights in the ceiling of the small elevator. Bringing a hand up to his forehead, Hunterhr realized something. _It's gone. The pain is gone._

"You sure? I don't know what the hell was happening to you but you'd better get checked out. I think that was epilepsy", the lift operator said. The medic shook his head.

"I'm fine. Help me up, please." Hunterhr grabbed onto the man's hand and pulled himself up. He felt a little light-headed but other than that, everything seemed normal. "Thank you", he said. The man regarded him warily.

Hunterhr took a tentative step. His feet held below him and he took another one. In a steady gait, the medic started towards the barracks. It was only barely past eight in the evening but Hunterhr felt like he could sleep for twenty-four straight hours. He made his way directly to Room Echo. Pushing inside, he was greeted by Iku and Doubleumc, playing cards in the back of the room.

"Hey man, how'd it go?" the Japanese sniper asked. His expression turned from friendly to surprised as Hunterhr ignored him and went straight for his bunk. Doubleumc and Iku exchanged a look as the medic dropped his trousers and T-shirt, leaving them in a messy bunch on the floor.

"Now that's something I didn't expect to ever see from Mr. Neatfreak. Care to shed some light on this psionic business for us Hunterhr?" Doubleumc asked.

The thought of having to deal with the talkative woman was too much for Hunterhr. "Tomorrow. Let me sleep", he mumbled as he clambered into his rack and pulled the sheets up to his chin. Turning away from the pair, he closed his eyes. The stars were still dancing in his vision, slowly fading away. Sleep was upon him in no time.

Hunterhr dreamt of a simple wooden box. He knew it had once been adorned with elegant carvings, but they had long since degraded with time. The smooth surface was featureless. No, _emotionless_. On the front, a padlock held it shut tight. _"What kind of a lock has no keyhole in it?" _Hunterhr wondered as the dream slowly faded away, replaced by the dimly glowing light of distant purple stars.


	64. Chapter 64: Awake

Chapter 64: Awake

2nd of November, 2015

XCOM Asia HQ, Genetics laboratory

Awo had learned to keep his eyes open while in the tube. The tube was what they called it. _"Get back in the tube, Major!" _Van Doorn would rib him in-between treatments. This was his fifth time in the tube in three days.

The interior of the genetic treatment facility was barren and clinically white. The walls were white, the floor was white, the ceiling was white. Only towards the back of the room the scenery changed: gray steel grating replaced the white tiles below the rack of human test tubes. Three glass containers sat on top of a rotary platform: as to the reason why, Awo couldn't tell. Supposedly it was to save room, but he didn't understand why they couldn't have just expanded the area a little. _"You've got to mix the soup, dear friend!" _Scubaman had laughed when he'd visited the genetics lab for the first time.

Awo had gotten the best seat in the house today. Captains Van Doorn and Medve were left staring at the walls behind him while the major took in the sight of the white laboratory. A console linked to the mixer stood where the white-tiled floor ended and the grating started. Opposite the console against the left wall, a bench was embedded into the metal bars. At the other end of the room, dimmed windows lined the wall. Awo wasn't sure whether he liked it or not; knowing you're being observed without being able to see the scientists was unsettling, but having them loiter about behind the glass in plain sight, staring at his half-naked body would've probably been worse. The operating room for surgery-related modifications was located to the right of the windows, through a sliding door. On the left, another door led into the showers.

A stream of bubbles rose from the bottom, distorting the view of the lab as they passed by Awo's face. The MELD-infused liquid was a vivid orange, giving the boring white of the lab a more vibrant hue. Awo breathed in deep through the oxygen mask. The feeling of floating in the warm liquid would've been pleasant if not for the nausea. He didn't need to struggle at all: the soup designed to equilibriate the exterior of his body for the genetic modification process was much heavier than water, allowing him to stay suspended during the hours of treatment. Wrist-thick tubes were connected to the alloy ports grafted into his arms, back and thighs. The intensive circulation of recombinant alien proteins and MELD into Awo's veins helped incorporate the genetic material into his own: the cloning vector itself was applied locally with an injection before each round of treatment.

_Come on, end already,_ Awo thought as the churning in his stomach resonated to his throat. He was yet to throw up inside the tube and had no intention of starting today. Squeezing his eyes shut Awo struggled on, kicking with his legs as a rumbling sensation echoed throughout his insides. The sensors taped to his chest must have transmitted his distress beyond the window and the door on the right slid open, letting a red-haired scientist in. She made her way over to the terminal in a brisk walk. Her fingers danced on the keypad and soon Awo's tube lowered, coming to a halt on top of the grating.

The soup around Awo quivered as the pressure-sealed glass separated itself from the foundation. Pulling the oxygen mask from his face, the major steadied himself against the smooth surface of the tube, his hands sliding down as the orange liquid streamed over him in a heavy, gel-like fashion. Sinking to his knees on the grating, Awo watched the liquid dribble down through the gaps in the metal and into the darkness of the waste-collection below. A torrent of brown-and-orange vomit followed as Awo released the contents of his stomach with a massive belch.

The scientist waited patiently as Awo shivered, still down on his hands and knees. Shaking his head, he gripped the rough metal bars with his fingers. With a grunt Awo pushed up, and the tubes connected to his back let go with a hiss. One by one, the major jerked his arms and legs forward, disconnecting the rest of the invasive machinery from him. Awo stumbled onwards and the woman wrapped a towel around his shoulders. "Here, let me help you", she spoke in a calm voice as she guided him towards the bench on the left.

Awo crashed down with a weary sigh. It wasn't enough that the treatments made him sick, they also made him feel like he was fifty. "Thank you", he muttered as the woman dried his shoulders, back and chest before getting to work on removing the sensors from his torso. _Red. Her name is Red_, Awo thought as he stared at the grated floor.

The alloy ports embedded into his body had been the first big change for Awo. The inch-in-diameter implants had caused a tingling sensation and the muscle around them had bruised for a few days, but now Awo didn't even recognize their existence half the time. It was the treatment itself that was killing him. The cloning process had thrown his hormone levels off balance; Doctor Vahlen had mentioned the operation could be harsh but Awo hadn't been prepared for something like this. He was lethargic for the rest of the day after being incubated in the soup. Considering the past three days had consisted of two dips into the primordial cloning vat a day, he wasn't exactly feeling on top of his game.

Awo wondered whether the younger operatives would fare better with the rigors of the modification process. At thirty-five, the major wasn't exactly a young gun anymore. He was certain that the twenty-two year old kid who started his career in law enforcement in Krakow before moving to the US would've been jumping about the labs in no time. Now, he felt like he couldn't get up from the bench without the young lady's help. _Then again, Van Doorn doesn't seem to have any problems. I guess it's the difference in procedure. Or hell, maybe I'm just getting soft._

"Only one more round and then the nausea should begin to ease. You're doing great, Major!" Red encouraged him as she lay the last of the sensors down on the bench. The part which Doctor Vahlen had described as "reverse chemo" was coming to an end. The time of adding alien genetics into his body would be over after the sixth round. The incubations in the soup would continue for three more days to stabilize the modification, while the concentrations of MELD and alien proteins would be gradually lowered to allow his body to re-adjust into life after treatment.

"I hope you're right, Red", Awo said, his voice much less enthusiastic than he would've liked. The young scientist's face lit up as he mentioned her name.

Awo hadn't believed Scubaman when the Latino had told him a lot of the personnel at DoXS downright adored the ground operatives. _"Try to remember their names at least! I'm sure many a lady has a picture of the Adorable Dumpling on their wall right next to salacious El Zorro!" _the Argentinian had teased Awo during his visit after the first day of treatment.

_I suppose he knows the other departments better than any of us. Where the hell does he find the time to socialize with the entire goddamn headquarters anyway?_ Awo thought as he accepted Red's hand and allowed the woman to help him up to his feet. She led him all the way to the shower doors where Awo thanked her before sliding the door open and continuing on alone.

_The hard part's almost over. Just hang in there,_ Awo thought as the cool water ran over his body, rinsing the rest of the gooey substance from his skin. The almost serene moment was cut short by violent retching as Awo doubled over, bile acids filling his mouth with their bitter taste.

* * *

Hunterhr's days had been accompanied by bizarre dreams and thoughts. Wide, eroded stone steps leading up to the closed copper doors of an old Catholic cathedral on a dusty Sunday afternoon. An open window on the second floor of a luxurious house and the defiant revving of a motorcycle, the open road beyond the gates calling to him. A crumpled photograph of a little girl with an adorable gap between her front teeth. An old Labrador Retriever in a law-enforcement vest, waiting patiently for him next to a small arms locker.

The dreams Hunterhr could understand: the human mind is a curious thing and one can never know what the subconscious will bring up next. When the thoughts had started coming to him during the day, he had dismissed them as a side effect of his increased stress levels. It was the latest vision that had finally broken through his defenses and woken a niggling concern inside: a view of Sergeant Foogleman through a high-powered scope. The scout was holding herself up by an elbow under a burnt tree as the plasma barrage struck her in the chest. Her dark ponytail whipped the air furiously as her head snapped backwards from the impact, crashing hard into the ground.

It was too specific. It was too real to be just a random thought. And he knew to whom it belonged. _No, you are just imagining things. The tests were negative. It is just because Iku told you about it once. That is all. _But despite the self-assurance, deep down Hunterhr knew it wasn't true. Iku had never talked about operation Swift Vanguard with him.

Last night had been blissfully free of visions. Not even the twinkling of purple stars had marred his rest as Hunterhr had been dead to the world for six straight hours. Opening his eyes to the already bustling Room Echo, he felt content. _Maybe it is over. Some side-effect of the scans, maybe?_ Hunterhr got up from his bunk located next to the door. Crossing over to his closet, he grabbed his hygiene bag as Doubleumc moaned, stretching out in her upper bunk.

The female medic's voice was a yawning drawl, as it was every morning, "You've got to be kidding me. Did they move the clocks again when I wasn't watching? No way it's time to get up yet."

"Shut your Pabulum", Iku muttered as he slung a towel over his naked shoulders. Closing his cabinet, the sniper got ready to follow Petete out of the room. The engineer was staggering towards the hallway with eyes half-closed, her brown hair a spectacular mess pointing in all directions.

Hunterhr glanced around the room. Kamikaze was still under his sheets, staring blankly into the distance. "Where's Volatile?" Hunterhr asked as he surveyed the infantrywoman's empty and neatly made bed.

Doubleumc propped herself up by her elbows, staring inquisitively at Hunterhr with sleep-deprived eyes. "You didn't hear the alarm? Well it's a bloody good thing Gypsy was on duty instead of you then. There was a downed medium in the night. Sometime past three I think? Wonder where it was, maybe they're already on site..." The medic's rambling followed Hunterhr out as he joined the dribble of operatives heading towards the showers at the end of the corridor.

The morning's first showers were already taken, as expected, so Hunterhr joined Iku at the line of sinks. Staring into the mirror on the blue-tiled wall, he splashed his face with cool water before getting on with brushing his teeth. The talk of the mornings had shifted from genetic modifications to psionics. And more accurately, the first gifted soldier starting his full-time training.

"But Hypergeek, really? What if he tries to poke around in my head? That's disgusting!" Amineri voiced her concerns, wrinkling her nose in disapproval. She was drying her dark hair and bronze skin while gossiping with the rest of the girls of Rooms Foxtrot and Golf.

"It ain't your mind he's interested in poking, girl!" Cameron hollered with toothbrush still in mouth, eliciting an uproar of laughter from the bathroom. Amineri rolled her towel up and swatted her in the rear. The raucous engineer stuck her ass out and the junior infantrywoman quickly lost interest in the punishment.

Iku raised his voice through the ruckus, "Like it or not, training sessions with psionic troopers are going to be business as usual soon enough. Better get used to the thought."

"How the hell is that even gonna work?" Prowler wondered amidst his shaving. A long, jagged scar ran across the Israeli engineer's temple, courtesy of an outsider capture gone wrong on his first operation.

"Beats me. I guess we'll find out", AlexD answered. The combat medic splashed his face clean of the remaining shaving foam. His features were sculpted obsidian, strong and masculine though he'd never given it a second thought himself. For a regular down-to-earth soldier, the attention he'd gotten in the female-dominated XCOM had come as a surprise.

AdHere rolled her eyes as she sprayed herself with deodorant. "More drills with Master Sergeant Cock? Oh boy, looking forward to this one", the Indian engineer said.

"Yeah, being the first psi trooper will do wonders for his ego. It definitely needed a boost", Prowler agreed sarcastically. He glanced towards AdHere and the two junior engineers exchanged a smirk.

Hunterhr let the banter of the early morning swim past him. He was breathing heavily, leaning against the sink. An ominous sensation was slowly rising in the back of his mind, spreading dim purple glow all over his consciousness and replacing the view of the white porcelain and blue-tiled walls. An alien covered in red-and-gold armor plating stood before him, the conical shape of its helmet ending in two horn-like ridges. The massive cannon in its hands flared green and Hunterhr crashed to the ground. _"RENZOL!" _he heard the urgent cry of Cell as the world darkened.

"Hey Congo! What the hell, man?" Iku asked, his voice equal measures surprised and worried.

Hunterhr glanced around the bathroom. He was down on the floor, grasping his still tingling left shoulder. "I'm alright. I slipped, that is all." The excuse sounded feeble even to himself but Iku seemed to accept it at face value.

"Alright. Try not to get yourself killed off duty. Jesus."

Hunterhr pushed himself up and surveyed the bathroom. Some operatives were giving him curious looks but most of them went on with their daily routines. Pulling his hand away, he turned to look at his shoulder with silent dread.

Nothing. The skin was brown and unbroken as it should be. But for a moment, Hunterhr could have sworn it was being torn apart by a relentless torrent of life-threatening plasma. His fingers closed around his arm, burying into the muscle. _No. I do not believe it. _He didn't know what he was refusing anymore; the fact he was gifted, or Renzol being injured and possibly killed in action.

The rest of the early morning dragged on for Hunterhr. He was off duty until noon and after grabbing a quick breakfast, he settled down in his room to read. But for the first time since joining XCOM, he couldn't focus on the words as his eyes kept wandering back to his shoulder. Eventually the medic gave up, placing the book on basic astronomy back in his closet before making his way over to the Skyranger hangar bay. A foreboding unease had settled over him, one he couldn't shake off. So he simply stood in waiting instead, hands on the railing, keeping his back arrow straight. Finally, the announcement over the PA system signaled the return of Strike-1 from their deployment.

The thrusters of the aircraft filled the hangar bay with their roar, tightening Hunterhr's insides into a cold lump. Engineers in yellow hard hats moved about below him, signaling to each other as they prepared for maintenance. The Skyranger landed with elegance, rocking back and forth on its suspension. The blasting of its jets died down and the hall was quiet. The ramp began to lower and Hunterhr knew. Even before its metallic edge hit the landing pad, he knew.

The paramedics were the first ones out of the aircraft, wheeling Renzol forwards on a stretcher. Her brow was gleaming with sweat, her short blonde locks a mess around her temples. Her eyes were squeezed shut in a grimace of pain and her right hand grasped the edge of the stretcher, knuckles white. The rocketeer's left shoulder was buried under white gauze. She was hurried up the ramp next to the stairs and as she passed by Hunterhr, all he could do was watch.

_She will live,_ Hunterhr thought to himself, the cold knot in his stomach gone. It was replaced by dejection, weighing heavily on his shoulders. Turning back towards the Skyranger, Hunterhr descended the stairs as the rest of Strike-1 emerged from the aircraft.

Corporal Coppertop staggered down the gangplank. The Argentinian assault had joined XCOM a week ago from _Coalición Latinoamericana de Defensa contra la Xeno_. CLDX was a coalition formed by the elite special forces of South American countries in an attempt to stave off the invaders. The fiery-red haired Latino was tall and tanned, his chiseled jaw and nose only compounded by eyes of deep emerald, glowing with quiet passion. Now they were squinted in pain as the assault staggered his way over to a stack of aircraft wheels. A deep grunt emanated from his throat as he settled down on top of the black rubber.

"What happened?" Hunterhr asked as he made it to the lower level.

"_Muerte"_, Coppertop uttered in a throaty voice as he rested his head back, eyes closed. His carapace armor had been stripped off and bandaging ran across his bare chest.

A loud laugh followed the man's words as Cell strode out of the Skyranger with gauss autorifle slung over her shoulders. "So fucking melodramatic these Latinos! No fatalities, Hunterhr. Though there was a massive goddamn bag of bullshit waiting for us on that crash site. Coppertop here almost came back wearing a red shirt!" Cell swung her weapon down as she reached the Argentinian. She leaned down against the assault's shoulder, smirking, "How was that for a first op with the big boys Garrote? Everything you'd hoped for?"

The Latino looked sideways at Cell, his eyes serious as he said, "How many months with no death? I not understand. In _CLDX,_ we never face _xeno _like this."

Cell let out a hearty laugh as the rest of the squad emerged from the Skyranger. Squint looked somewhat shaken as she replied, "It's not just you. What the hell was that? I've never seen mutons like that before!"

Hunterhr spoke up, "Thick red-and-gold armor plating, a conical shaped helmet with two horn-like ridges, carrying a huge plasma cannon about the size of the gauss autorifle."

The operatives of Strike-1 fell silent as they stared at Hunterhr, dumbfounded. Cell was the first one to find her tongue again, "What the fuck, Congo? How did you know?"

Hunterhr let out a sigh of defeat. "I have somewhere I need to be. Goodbye", the gifted medic said as he turned around, starting up the long and arduous walk towards the lowest level of the headquarters.

* * *

The psionic cradle stood before him, offering its mystical and mythical embrace. There was a dull throbbing in Hunterhr's cranium; not painful nor pleasant. It simply was. Closing his eyes, Hunterhr savored the last moment of his soon-to-be past life.

_No matter where you go, no matter what you face: always remember where you came from. Remember the hardships you endured, the happiness and joy you were blessed with. For the world will not. Do not let it sink its cynical teeth into you; do not let it break you. Remember, my son: you are a good person. Do not let them change that._

The words of his father from a lifetime ago echoed in Hunterhr's mind. He didn't want any of this. He didn't want the change, the massive responsibility such power carried with it. Even if this was a natural part of the human condition, moving above and beyond the capabilities and limits of a regular man was too much for Hunterhr. All he wanted to do was help people, protect them. Who was to say this change would help with any of that? Moreover, if they were to survive this war, what would become of him? Could he truly remember where he came from? Or would it all be lost in nigh limitless individual power; would all that he held dear be compromised by the scientific discoveries of what _he_ had become? The lines of morality and ethics forever blurred and lost, throwing the world into yet more chaos and strife.

Hunterhr opened his eyes and stepped inside the pod. The restraints locked his arms and legs in place and Hunterhr steeled his will. If this was how it would have to be, then so be it. There was no looking back. Only forwards, into the future. Whether it was just around the corner or a light year away, he would have to make sure it would be just and right for everyone. It was a burden he had never asked for, but a soldier cannot shy away from the duties that befell them. The lid began its ascent and Hunterhr stared off into the distance.

He saw the glow of the stars well before the lights turned on.


	65. Chapter 65: The Curious Case of the D

Chapter 65: The Curious Case of the D

12th of November, 2015

XCOM Asia HQ, mess hall

The mess was mostly empty during the last hour of lunch time. Personnel from the various departments of XCOM formed small pockets at the long tables. It wasn't the massive crowd of rush time that overloaded Drake's new sense, rendering her a normal human being; dependent on just smell, touch, hearing, sight and taste. But now whenever someone passed her by, she could _feel_ them: a tingling sensation on her skin that the neurons of her peripheral nervous system transmitted to her cerebral cortex.

It wasn't a true sixth sense, but rather an extension of her touch and sight. The MRI scans she had undergone had confirmed Doctor Vahlen's hypothesis: the somatosensory cortex responsible for touch-related sensations activated in conjunction with the visual cortex in response to the paresthesia caused by bioelectric signals from large nearby living organisms. The sensation itself was a curious mixture of many familiar ones coming together into something completely new, but Drake had gotten used to it surprisingly quickly. It wasn't the same as feeling something on her skin and it definitely wasn't visual; it was closer to _knowing_ the three-dimensional space around her without looking and recognizing the movements of other organisms within that space. She had never thought of her surroundings that way before: of course the room had always existed around her, but it had been so easy to just focus on what you can see.

"Okay here comes another one", Kilroy said from across the table, dropping a half-eaten sandwich on her already empty plate.

Drake closed her eyes. Concentrating on her newly found sense, she could again feel Kilroy opposite her as the numbness of her presence wore off. Behind her, two people were sitting at a table: the researchers hadn't left yet. Far off to her right, just on the edge of the bioelectric signal range, she felt one more person. She couldn't tell the signal off from the others, but judging by the position it was probably the same base security as last time. The skin on Drake's right shoulder blade tingled for a moment and she sensed two more entities, moving in a brisk walk behind her. "Two. Moving fast towards the dish pit in the aisle behind me", she said and Kilroy let out a low whistle.

"Nice."

Drake opened her eyes and looked at Kilroy. The sensations from her, the scientists and the base security personnel quickly faded without focus, but she was still aware of the two new signals moving up between the tables and passing her by. Drake watched Kilroy as the assault followed their movement with her eyes; it matched Drake's perception of their position perfectly. Kilroy nodded a greeting and Drake heard Stoli's casual and Wootastic's bright hellos from behind her as the engineers walked past them.

"What's with her? The bitch is downright beaming", Kilroy grumbled as she leaned her cheek against her fist. Drake turned around in her chair, catching the backs of Wootastic and Stoli as the two engineers moved towards the corner of the mess hall. Stoli did seem like she was in particularly good spirits: the sway in her gait was even more pronounced than usual as her hips swung back and forth. Drake couldn't see her face properly but as she turned her head to reply to Wootastic, her bright smile reached all the way up to her eyes, underlined by a healthy blush on her cheeks. Drake couldn't help but adore the way Stoli looked.

"Maybe she's been getting the D", Drake joked as she turned back to her meal, cutting into the remainder of her meatballs.

Kilroy straightened in her chair with a jolt. Her eyes were wide as she stared at Drake. "Of course! How the fuck didn't I think of that?" she cried, almost too loud. Drake swallowed her mouthful as she stared at Kilroy, puzzled. The brunette assault pounced on the issue, "We're getting to the bottom of this, Drake!"

"Doesn't seem like it's any of our business", Drake replied with a raised eyebrow.

Kilroy dismissed her with a snort, "As the senior covert operative of the outfit, I deem this a matter of internal security!"

"We don't handle internal security."

"Goddammit Drake! As your senior, I command you to assist me in this urgent matter!" Kilroy slammed her fist to the table, causing the cutlery on their trays to jump.

Drake brought up a hand to cover her smile. Despite her resistance, she was looking forward to yet another small adventure with Kilroy. She had missed their time together during the brunette's most recent injury. "Fine. Master Sergeant Drake, reporting for duty", she managed with a straight face, passing Kilroy a mock Boy Scout salute.

"That's more like it! You done yet?" Kilroy asked as she leaned back in her chair, following Stoli's and Wootastic's backs out of the mess.

"Just a second", Drake answered as she got ready to finish her meal. Kilroy's obsession with EXALT hadn't gone anywhere: she had been spending almost all of her free time at the covert operations department since her discharge from the medbay three days ago. However, that had quickly come to an end when Samaras had started processing and gathering data for the next covert operation. Kilroy's loitering about the offices and her upstart and presumptuous attitude had finally gotten under the skin of XCOM's head of intelligence and he had denied the assault access to the department and case files. _Two days, crazy woman. Give me two days without your presence so I can hear my thoughts and handle this data. Then we'll plan your deployment,_ the Greek had told Kilroy. Kilroy had told him to fuck off. And that was putting her words nicely.

Drake felt a little sorry for the patient head of intelligence. Samaras was the archetype Greek when it came to his looks: dark hair, strong chin, macho man all over. But he wasn't temperamental at all; quite the opposite, his deliberate and calm mannerisms in personal life transferred over to his ability to gather and process information. Those were the very qualities that had landed him his position at Covert Operations and Tactical Espionage (COTE). And the very same qualities that made him take too much shit from Kilroy, at least in Drake's humble opinion.

_I guess this whole thing with Stoli is just another way of keeping herself occupied, _Drake thought as she regarded Kilroy amidst her meal. The woman she called sister was glancing around the mess hall restlessly, clearly raring to go. _At least it's just messing with Stoli. What's the worst that could happen?_

Drake set down her knife and fork and wiped her mouth with a napkin. "Okay, I'm done", she announced and Kilroy stood up immediately. She was grinning from ear-to-ear:

"Let's get this started."

* * *

CASE FILE D

OPERATION CODENAME. . . . .PEGASUS

DOT. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .##.##.2015

LOCATION. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .#### ASIA HQ, GYM

AGENTS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .CLASSIFIED

EQUIPMENT. . . . . . . . . . . . . .CLASSIFIED

Drake focused on her set in the shoulder press. The burn was good, spreading from her upper back over to her shoulders and along her arms. She gritted her teeth as she moved on to the last repeats of the set. _Five more. Come on, five more! _Drake psyched herself up, giving it everything she had.

"What do you think they're talking about?" Kilroy mused as she fiddled with her water bottle. The brunette had hardly broken a sweat as she focused on shadowing Stoli and Wootastic. Hours had passed since lunch time as Kilroy and Drake had mapped out the operation, followed by fruitless attempts at finding an opening on the two engineers. Finally, their moment had come as Stoli and Wootastic had departed for the relatively crowded yet enclosed space of the gym. The targets were currently located on a mat some distance away, doing the occasional stretch between their talking.

Not receiving an answer, Kilroy turned back to find Drake grimacing under the handles of the shoulder press, desperately fighting to extend her arms. "Dammit! You're not helping, Drake!" she hissed at the assault struggling under her weights. Drake finally gave up, letting her arms fall down. Her shoulders were on fire. Satisfying, gratifying fire.

Drake glanced towards the pair amidst her panting, "'What's for lunch tomorrow?'" She met Kilroy's poisonous stare with a sheepish smile, "What do you want me to say? I have no idea 'Roy."

Kilroy turned around and stared contemplatively at the wall behind their target. Leaning to her side, she pretended she was stretching. "If only we had some fucking kit", she grumbled, almost too quiet for Drake to hear.

Kilroy's ban to COTE had indeed been real: the blue shirt base security standing guard at the blast doors leading into the offices of the department had refused her entry. The operation leader had sent Drake in after, confident she would gain access to the gear they needed: wiretaps, pocket surveillance equipment and the like. And she had, but not to Kilroy's knowledge. Part of it was Drake wanting to see how Kilroy would fare without, part of it her reservations for such gross misuse of XCOM equipment.

Kilroy straightened herself with a huff. Turning back towards Drake, her face was determined under her sweatband as she said, "Come on, we're gonna have to get closer."

"Alright, let me just finish this set…"

"What do you mean finish your fucking set? We're on a mission, Drake. You're a professional. Now act like one!"

Drake tried to suppress her grin. She just loved messing with Kilroy when she was this dedicated to something. Relinquishing her position at the shoulder press, she got up and followed the brunette over to the stretching mats. They settled down at the opposite end of the line, far enough to hopefully not attract the target's attention, yet close enough to hear. Drake stayed up, taking the most of the opportunity to stretch her shoulders while Kilroy got down on the floor, spreading her legs and pushing her head down.

The banging of weights and machinery drowned out most of Stoli's and Wootastic's dialogue as Kilroy strained her hearing to try and make out their quiet words, "What about… there?"

"…eight? You fucking… me?"

"Come on… six? Five? …idiot."

Kilroy squinted her eyes as she tried to figure it all out. Forgetting herself in her stretch, she was quickly brought back with a start as Stoli's voice carried over, "Hey, Kilroy! What's up?"

The assault straightened herself to a sitting position. Recovering quickly, she turned to look at the engineer and raised her voice in response, "You know me. Glad to be up and about again. Can't wait to pop some 'XALTs and X-rays."

Stoli snorted up a small laugh. "You ever think about anything besides murder?"

"No. How about you?" Kilroy was swift to take most of the unexpected situation, trying to steer the conversation in her preferred direction.

"None of your business", Stoli answered with a sweet smirk. Kilroy lifted her eyebrows at the response and Stoli let out a cheerful laugh. "Come on, Woo. Let's grab some dinner."

Wootastic bid the two assaults goodbye with a smile, leaving Kilroy sulking at the missed opportunity. "Fucking hell", she muttered. There would be no point trying to shadow them to the mess hall: it would only raise their suspicions. "Plan B Drake. Execute Operation Tongue-tied."

Drake attempted to swallow her laugh, but not before a guffaw escaped her lips. Kilroy turned to regard her friend, "You think it's funny, huh?"

"Yes", Drake managed before bursting into a fit of laughter.

"You know, sometimes I wonder why I even bring you along."

"It's because you love me", Drake beamed down at Kilroy. The brunette did her best to try and keep up her sullen façade, but a small smile crept to her lips nonetheless.

"Count your lucky stars for that, sister."

* * *

CASE FILE D

OPERATION CODENAME. . . . .TONGUE-TIED

DOT. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .##.##.2015

LOCATION. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .#### ASIA HQ, DELTA

AGENTS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .CLASSIFIED

EQUIPMENT. . . . . . . . . . . . . .CLASSIFIED

"You know, I think we're really onto something here Drake. What little I caught of their conversation, I think they were rating men", Kilroy mused as she made her way down the corridors of the barracks with Drake in tow. Shower fresh, the two assaults were headed for Room Delta. It was located at the end of the wing housing Rooms Alpha through Delta.

Drake brushed back her hair in contemplation. "I dunno. Maybe they were just doing math. What with them being engineers and all." Kilroy ignored her comment, much to the disappointment of Drake. With Kilroy catching onto her teasing, she decided to offer her actual thoughts on the matter, "To be fair, that isn't really confirmation of any kind. Stoli's been known to express her opinion on these matters from time to time."

"The slut that she is, I'd be surprised if she even thinks about anything else. Probably why she snuffed me back there", Kilroy said. Drake grimaced at the words. Even though there was animosity between the assault and the engineer, she still believed they held a mutual respect for one another. But she knew better than to bring it up with Kilroy; she would have her back, no matter what.

The two assaults came to a halt at the door to Delta. Kilroy had confirmed the premises would be clear: Burncycle was down at Bravo for tonight's poker game hosted by Orgun and Scuba; Zim, Wootastic and Stoli would be taking on Kungtotte, AlexD and Cell in a game of darts at the operative's mess to once again prove which of the dominating nationalities in the outfit was on top. Wolfer was in the medbay following another injury on the field. It was go-time.

Kilroy banged on the door before pushing inside in her confident fashion. Instinct was at his closet, donned only in his BDU pants and combat boots. The short and stout Nigerian gave the Shotgun Sisters a curious look as he reached for a tank top. "Mmm, dark chocolate!" Kilroy jested as she strode over to Instinct.

"Kilroy. Drake", Instinct nodded a dry greeting at the brunette before smiling at Drake. Pulling the tank top over his head, he turned to face his corpswomen, "What's going on?"

"Oh, you know. Not much, been a quiet afternoon. Thought I'd pay a visit to my favorite hunk of meat is all", Kilroy glanced around the room before continuing, "Yup, Wolfer's not here. That could've been awkward."

Instinct let out a low, rumbling laugh at the jest. "I don't think he has any illusions about that, Sheriff. He's just a moron, not brain dead."

Drake leaned into the conversation, "How is he? I haven't made the time to visit him yet."

Instinct's brow furrowed as a look of genuine concern rose on his face. "His injury isn't that bad. But the way he keeps rushing headlong into danger is fucking ridiculous. It's like he wants to get killed."

Kilroy wheeled her head from one side to the other as she considered his words. "That's the way he's always been though. I guess it happens when you have more brawn than brain."

"Guess so", Instinct agreed.

"So, what's been going on with you Dean?" Kilroy asked. Instinct had often talked about his desire to return to Nigeria after the war. The country's infrastructure was ran amok with corruption: without money ending up in the hands of the right officials, it was extremely difficult to get anywhere. Instinct had been fortunate enough to have been born into a reasonably wealthy family. Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for everyone else. Instinct's grandfather had been a dean in a public school and his father a teacher. The assault's desire to try and do something about his home country's corrupt education system had landed him his nickname.

Instinct rubbed his stubble in contemplation as he answered, "Not much, really. Been trying to adjust back to normal after those covert ops. I've been training, mostly. It's like this conflict has been going on for so long I don't even know what the fuck else to do with my free time! It all just bleeds together at this point."

Kilroy nodded in agreement. "So you're glad to hand the mantle back to the very best? Don't worry, I'll take the fuckers out!"

The look Instinct gave her was both amused and dismissive. "You're too big for your boots, Kilroy."

Drake chuckled as she chimed in, "She knows it, Instinct. She knows."

"I have no idea what the hell you're talking about," Kilroy stated, a little too loud, "My boots are just fine. See?" She lifted her foot for inspection and Instinct shook his head. Settling back down, Kilroy went for the objective, "What about the rest of Delta? Anything interesting happening down here?"

Instinct crossed his arms over his chest as he considered the question, "Interesting? Dunno about that. B-cycle's been really excited over his recent poker success. Apparently he pulled off some massive bluff on Scuba the other day. Kid won't fucking shut up about it. Kinda hoping he gets his ass whooped tonight!" The assaults shared a laugh at the sentiment. "Other than that? Zim's started writing some dirty novel and she keeps bugging me with ideas for it."

Drake glanced at Kilroy, smiling brightly, "Yeah, I heard about it when I was out training with the gunners. I believe Cell's exact words to Zim were: 'Fucking lazy, foul-mouthed, piece of shit skank if you ever try to push your fangirl drivel on me I'll drive my fist so far into your mouth it'll come outta your ass!'"

Booming laughter filled room Delta as the three assaults cracked up at Drake's story. Kilroy wiped tears from her eyes as she managed to settle down, "'Foul-mouthed'? She called her 'foul-mouthed' while saying that? Oh Cell you magnificent bitch, never change."

Instinct ran a hand over his face as his rumbling laugh finally died down, "You remembered all that Drake? It's a goddamn impressive quote."

"Yeah, it's been kinda engraved into my brain. As is what followed afterwards."

"Well come on, spit it out, sister!" Kilroy urged.

"It's one of the few times I've seen Zim go completely wordless. She just stared at Cell who didn't even break eye contact! No shame at all, she didn't apologize or take anything back. Just looked Zim straight in the eye until she quite literally stared her out of the room. I felt kinda bad for her actually. I think she might have invested a lot into that story."

"Fucking brilliant", Kilroy chuckled. She would have to congratulate Cell afterwards; it was certainly a feat worthy of her respect.

"You bitches, you're all crazy", Instinct said as he raised his hands in a defensive gesture, "I'm so fucking glad I was born a man."

Kilroy tilted her head to the side and gave him a sickly sweet smile, "Aaaw, is the big man afraid of lil' ol' us?"

"Fuckin' terrified."

Kilroy barked up a laugh at the response and Instinct smiled. The banter died down and Kilroy's mind raced on the next move. Before the silence dragged on for too long, she went for it, "How about the other girls? Anything new?"

Instinct scratched at his stubble once again as he thought about the question. Squinting his eyes in suspicion, he slowly turned to look at Kilroy, "Are you trying to get gossip out of me, Kilroy?"

The flustered brunette feigned surprise at the question, "What? No! Of course not! Just friendly banter, is all." Drake turned away and bit into her cheeks as the laughter bubbled inside her. Plugging her mouth with a hand to further stem the tide of amusement, she struggled to hold herself together at Kilroy's predicament.

The frown on Instinct's brow slowly smoothed out as he leaned back. "I see. But no, I don't really have any." Kilroy shot the trembling back of Drake a poisonous look before carrying on with the small talk.

* * *

Drake lied down in her rack at the back of Room Alpha. She was completely engrossed in her mystery novel. There weren't all that many things to do around the base during the late evenings: a good book really helped her settle down before hitting the sack. Merlin was brushing the flowing thicket of her curly hair at the other end of the room and Kungtotte had already settled down under his blankets. The bunk above Merlin's was still empty; no one had been sent to fill the void left by Awo's promotion into the officer ranks months ago. However, Foogleman's bed was no longer vacated. A blonde Australian gunner with a round face, straight nose and determined eyes sparkling with humor had taken the bottom bunk below Kungtotte's. Soylent was fiddling with her folding knife, making the small, well-balanced weapon dance over her knuckles and twirl between her fingers. The serenity of the night was broken by Kilroy bursting in through the door.

"The eagle has laid eggs! I say again Drake, the Nest is no longer empty!" Kilroy was panting as she leaned against the doorframe: wherever she had come from, it had been in a hurry.

Drake let her head fall back against her pillow with a groan, "It's late, 'Roy. Come on, give it a rest!"

The brunette's eyes were burning as she stepped into the room. In brisk strides, she flew across the room and grabbed onto Drake. With a powerful yank, she pulled the Indian assault off her bed. Drake yelped as her backside crashed onto the floor, jolting with pain. "Ow, ow, ow!" Drake whimpered. Kilroy grabbed her hair and twisted slightly. Drake's head turned with the motion and she looked up at her assailant. "Okay, okay! I'll come", she conceded with a desperate laugh.

Kilroy let go of her with a satisfied grin, "We were so close before. I'm not stopping now!"

"What the hell are you two up to now? Spit it out!" Merlin hollered from across the room.

Kilroy looked back at the Mexican. "Eat me", she quipped.

Sticking her tongue out, Merlin shook her head around in a distasteful display of oral sex. Kilroy put up a regretful expression as Drake stood up beside her, "I'm sorry to get your hopes up, hon. I've got business. You'll have to settle for Soylent's carpet here."

The gunner glanced at the senior operatives, one after the other. Merlin gave her lips a slow lick as she eyed Soylent up and down. "Come to mama!" she whispered, rising from her bed.

Soylent brought her knife to a defensive posture, holding on with both hands. "The fuck kinda room did they put me in?" she said, regarding the slowly approaching Merlin warily.

Kilroy started towards the door with Drake following close behind. "The best kind. Oh and don't mind Thinmint. He's one of the girls."

Kungtotte rose up under his blankets at the comment and gave Kilroy a dry look. Shaking his head, the sniper settled back down, muttering under his breath, "Kids these days…"

"Oi! Don't leave me alone with this crazy bitch! Crikey-fuck, mate!" Soylent yelped. Kilroy laughed at the gunner's dilemma as she strode out of the room.

"Go easy on her Merlin!" Drake bid goodbye over her shoulder as she joined Kilroy in the hallways, leaving Soylent to fend for herself.

* * *

CASE FILE D

OPERATION CODENAME. . . . .LURKER

DOT. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .##.##.2015

LOCATION. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .#### ASIA HQ, BARRACKS

AGENTS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .CLASSIFIED

EQUIPMENT. . . . . . . . . . . . . .CLASSIFIED

The barracks was veiled in shadows. Two figures made their way across the void of the empty corridors, moving quietly through the first wing. Making it to the main hallway, they turned right. Passing by the sign marking the wing housing rooms Echo through Hotel, still they carried on. A corridor on their left led into the officer's quarters; next to it, the door of a small arms locker bathed under fluorescent lights. Yet still the two carried on. Past another opening on their right until finally, they reached the very end of the barracks. There, they came to a halt.

A pair of heads popped around the corner. One of them a Caucasian brunette with determined eyes. The other one Oriental, with almond-shaped eyes and caramel skin, looking almost black in the inadequate lighting. Down the hallway, flanked by deep shadows on either side, a doorway was illuminated by the lights in the ceiling. Hanging from the doorknob, a single piece of women's clothing screamed 'occupied'.

"Look at that cup size", Kilroy muttered as she regarded the scarlet lacy bra. "Has to be Stoli's. No other cow here has udders that obscenely large."

Drake clacked her tongue in contemplation. "What now?" she asked. "Surely even you won't just barge in there?"

Kilroy pulled back around the corner and leaned against the wall. This was where the surveillance equipment would've really come in handy. There was no way they would hear anything through the door: the quarters were well sound-proofed, as Zim had learned on that fateful day months ago. Hijacking the PA system and directing a message into The Nest only… it would require more time than they had. A realization dawned on Kilroy and she turned to Drake with a wide smile, "But of course. Drake my beautiful sister, I have you."

Drake looked at Kilroy in puzzlement, waiting for her to continue. Kilroy put an arm around her shoulders and explained the plan with a coaxing voice, "I was wrong to look for surveillance equipment all along. All we need is for you to sneak up to that door and… you know. Feel around with your new and enhanced senses."

"No! Absolutely not!" Drake pulled away from Kilroy with a look of shock on her face.

"Oh come on! Just get a little touchy-feely in there. Maybe try and tell who she's shagging."

"No!" Drake reiterated, adamant. "First of all, it doesn't work like that. Everyone's signal feels the same. And second of all, _NO_! I didn't undergo seven days of genetic treatments, turning my body into a weapon so I can satisfy your sick curiosity over who Stoli's been fucking! It's been fun, but this is where I draw the line, Kilroy!"

Kilroy opened her mouth, ready to launch into a counter argument. The sound of someone clearing their throat behind them caught the two assaults off-guard. Even Drake hadn't noticed the tingling on her skin in the heat of the exchange. Turning around, they laid eyes on the blue uniform of a base security guard. His face was stern under his ballcap, his assault rifle resting on his back. "Master Sergeants Kilroy, Drake", he greeted his superiors with a curt nod. "It's after hours. Please return to your quarters."

Kilroy shot a desperate look towards The Nest. They'd been caught red-handed. Only the sports section was open to personnel during the night hours, though Scubaman had managed to make the guards patrolling the barracks look the other way when it came to The Nest. Gritting her teeth, she let out a sharp puff of air in disappointment. "Fine. We know the way out, Private…?" Kilroy let her question hang in the air.

"Tethalaki, sir."

"Carry on, Private Tethalaki." Kilroy marked the name down in her head and started back the way they had come from in an angry walk. Down the hallway, she noticed someone standing under the lights of the small arms locker. Kilroy groaned as she drew nearer and recognized the petite frame of Wootastic. The engineer had her hands on her hips, her face wrinkled in annoyance. The usually so cheerful and energetic German made quite the saucy sight.

"I knew it", Wootastic hissed as the assaults drew into hearing range. Kilroy tried to walk past her, only to be stopped by the engineer jumping in front of her. "Don't you dare walk away from me, Kilroy." The small woman stared up at Kilroy, and the assault looked away, feigning disinterest. "I thought you were suspicious at the gym. Thank god Instinct isn't like the rest of you backstabbing assaults."

Kilroy rolled her eyes. "Whatever", she grumbled and pushed past Wootastic, sending the small engineer stumbling and almost falling over.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!" Wootastic shouted after her, but Kilroy didn't stop. "It's not Scuba!" she yelled, and the assault stopped in her tracks.

Drake let out a sigh of realization and ran a hand through her dark hair. _Of course that's what this is about,_ she thought. _How didn't I see it? Am I getting dense as a woman? Then again, this goddamn conflict has gone on for so long it's like the normal world doesn't exist anymore._

Drake looked at Kilroy's still back. She stood there for a while longer before continuing on, wordless. Drake turned to Wootastic who hadn't taken her eyes off Kilroy. "Sorry, Bonus", Drake muttered as she walked past her, giving the engineer a pat on the shoulder. The Shotgun Sisters returned to Room Alpha, Casefile D canned and archived as a miserable failure.

* * *

The door with the red bra hanging from its handle was surrounded by a halo of fluorescent light. The corridors were empty and silent in the middle of the night, any curious eyes long since banished back into their quarters. The lacy fabric on the doorknob swayed as the door opened.

Stoli snuck out into the corridor. She was wearing a pair of red panties and clutching the rest of her clothes to her naked chest. Slipping the matching bra out of the hook, she shouted a quiet goodbye into the room before flying through the corridors on her tiptoes, giggling to herself in satisfaction.

A moment passed before another figure emerged from the halfway-open door. Zim's dark hair was a tussled mess as she pulled the ends of her locks from under the collar of her tank top. Leaning back in through the doorway, she wiggled her fingers towards the bed playfully before striding out into the main hallway, positively beaming.

A rustle from The Nest signaled a third person rising from the satin sheets. A naked man with a body of sculpted obsidian appeared in the door. Leaning against the frame, AlexD stared off into the corridors in wonder, wearing a look of utter bliss on his face. With a chuckle he gave his ass a scratch before pulling the door closed behind him, gladly taking on the cleaning duty all for himself.


	66. Chapter 66: Under your skin

Chapter 66: Under your skin

23rd of November, 2015

Operation Cold Crone

Chengdu, China

Strike-1 responding

Commanding: GSGT Merlin

GSGT JBowles, GSGT Daishi, TSGT Wolfer, TSGT Vherid, SGT Wootastic, CPL AlexD, CPL Soylent

"Dropping the thirty-bomb! We're going all out tonight, right Daishi?" JBowles' cheerful banter filled the Skyranger as the aircraft swooped across mainland China.

The blonde scout answered with a courteous smile. Her hair was gathered into a tight bun and an army green beret sat on her brow. "Let's not get carried away, JBowles. Op first, celebrations after," Daishi said.

The young rocketeer dismissed the birthday girl with a cocksure grin and a wave of his hand. "It's a crashed scout, this one's in the bag already, baby!"

Merlin shot him a dry look. "Shut your fucking trap. We're doing this by the book."

"Yessir," JBowles conceded, his mood taken down a notch. He'd finally been able to pinpoint what annoyed him about Merlin: It was the way she had one set of rules for herself, another one for everyone else, and one hell of a temper to enforce them. JBowles would never admit it, but the infantrywoman scared him more than all the mutons of the invading force combined.

The Scout downed by Colonel Fallis and Lieutenant Spitfire had come down on the metropolitan area around Chengdu in the Sichuan province. XCOM had been fast to respond as always: In just under an hour, Strike-1 had geared up and made it to the AO from the hidden base off the coast of Japan and across the mainland of The People's Republic of China. The high-powered jets of the Skyranger allowed them to respond at speeds far exceeding those of regular aircraft.

By a stroke of luck, the UFO had come down on a district already turned into rubble and ruin by a bombing run earlier on in the month, courtesy of a Destroyer the XCOM's air force had been unable to contest. The reconstruction of the district had been postponed indefinitely: China's massive provinces had been hit hard by the alien attacks and the bureaucratic machinery was ill-equipped to deal with the plethora of cases.

The Skyranger came down on what used to be a small-business district. The office blocks and apartment buildings had been turned into unrecognizable piles of concrete: The façades scraped and burnt away in extraterrestrial fire; the windows blown inwards, left staring at the gray afternoon skies like the sunken, hollow eyes of a great sea of statues. The dust had settled on the nameless district weeks ago. People unfound in the rescue operations lay to rest beneath their homes and workplaces. But now, a fresh scar of scorched earth decorated the face of the dead city. Buildings barely standing on their feet had collapsed as the UFO had smashed its way through their barren bodies. A trail of destruction amidst destruction. It all ended in a plaza surrounded by ruins. At the very end was the UFO, buried under rubble.

Big Sky set down at a crossroads some distance from the crash site. The operatives of Strike-1 poured out of the belly of the ship led by Merlin at the head of the formation. The gunnery sergeant hit a button on the side of her full helmet and a darkened visor came down to cover her face. The squad spread out into defilade as the thrusters of the Skyranger kicked up grit and debris off the desolate streets, the aircraft roaring its way back into the open skies.

"Looks like E.T. had one hell of a landing," Merlin announced as the AO was once again quiet after the departure of their ride, "But don't get complacent. Stick to formation and sweep towards the crash site. Move out!"

The squad took to the field with the experience of countless battles and training sessions, moving wordlessly in unison through the arid grey landscape. Merlin led from the center while Daishi took the right flank, leaving the leftmost position for the recently recovered Wolfer. The rest of the squad supported them as they covered each other's angles, reclaiming the destroyed district one piece of debris at a time.

The sun was blocked out behind a thin wall of clouds, just barely letting dull afternoon light into the city. Combined with the dust raised by the UFO the scenery was ethereal: an abandoned city dressed in a veil of mystery. The air hung heavy above the squad as they cleared their way through the ruins, anticipating the cry for contact. Eventually, it was Daishi who brought the formation to a halt, her raised palm causing the rest of the squad to stop in their tracks.

The scout pushed up against a partially collapsed office building three stories tall. To the right of the ruin a brief no man's land was followed by a few thin metal walls still standing, having presumably belonged to a small warehouse on the office building's lot. The site was located at a crossroads: beyond the warehouse, abandoned cars had spilled out onto the street from the parking lot on the other side. The metal walls blocked out most of the intersection, but Daishi was certain she had caught a glimpse of a familiar orange glow in the distance. Weighing the battle scanner in her hand she regarded the sight before her. Choosing her opening, she pitched the reconnaissance device. It flew over the open ground between the two buildings, through a gap in-between the metal walls and landed in the middle of the intersection.

Daishi's combat tablet gave her access to the area around the crossroads. She couldn't see her own position at the back of the office building as the remnants of the warehouse blocked a considerable amount of line of sight. The second floor of the office had two massive openings in its side, with parts of the walls still standing. It would make for a great base of fire into the intersection. Rolling the joystick on her tablet, she scanned the other side. A wall of ruins and rubble, a few car wreckages on the side of the road, a scorched but otherwise surprisingly intact white delivery van and… there they were. She had sight on them past the rear of the van, moving through the ruins beyond towards the road, a pod of outsiders and sectoids. She counted three tall figures and two small. The reddish skin of the small aliens stood out clearly against the grey landscape. The sight of the dangerous enemies made Daishi's skin prickle.

"Talk to me," Merlin commanded in a quiet voice as she knelt next to her, peering off towards the ruins with gauss rifle at the ready.

"Five X-rays," Daishi stopped as she caught glimpse of a sixth figure on her pad, "make it six. Three outsiders, two commanders and a mech, making their way towards this intersection. ETA two mikes tops. May I make a suggestion, sir?"

Merlin looked Daishi in the eye through her visor. "Go ahead, gunnery sergeant."

"We can use this building as a base of fire. Set up a flanking element hiding behind the ruins of that warehouse. Catch them in a crossfire and blow them away on first contact."

The squad leader was quick to accept the hasty plan. Turning back towards the rest of the squad, she signaled for them to regroup with a sense of urgency. "We don't have a lot of time," Merlin said as she turned back to Daishi, "You'll lead the assault team from the warehouse. Take Wolfer and Wootastic and wait for the rocket. Don't make your presence known before the rest of us pin them with volume of fire. After that, you're free to wipe them the fuck out. Got it?"

"Yessir."

The rest of the squad made it to the building and Merlin gave out her orders in a quick, hushed voice, "Wolfer, Wootastic, you're with Daishi. The rest of you get your sorry asses onto the second floor, and stay the fuck out of sight. We've got six contacts strolling up this highway any minute now. Move, move, _move_!" The operatives streamed in through an open hole in the wall, presumably once a window overlooking the back of the lot. Merlin gave Daishi, Wootastic and Wolfer one last look before following after her squad.

The building was dark and dusty, the air heavy with macroscopic particles. The first floor was reasonably intact: Only a few rays of sunlight shone in through the cracks in the wall, making dust and grime dance in the air. Merlin followed Vherid to the right, through the cracked corridor and passing by a closed door on her left. At the end of the corridor, an open window was blocked by rubble from the outside. To the left, a staircase ran up to the second floor. The concrete stairs were partially collapsed but Merlin didn't hesitate as she followed the rest of her squad up the flight.

The third floor was completely gone, reduced to a slope of concrete blocks and steel beams in front of the building. It would be easy enough to slide down from the second floor should they need to push the enemy. Merlin hoped it wouldn't come to that. Though the plan was rough and rushed, it should work. Keeping her voice low, she barked her orders, "Soylent, your ass is on the left. JBowles, you're with me in the middle, Vherid on the right. Alex, you stick to the back and support as needed. Alright people, let's get those big fucking guns online!"

Most of the wall was miraculously still standing, sporting two huge gaps that left a total of four firing ports out into the streets below. AlexD made his way over to the singular wooden table that was left standing at the back of the floor amidst rubble and wooden splinters. Pulling the table into the corner behind Soylent where he was covered from the road, he started preparing for casualties. Merlin took her position on the middle portion of the wall. There was nothing left to do but wait.

Merlin clutched her rifle as she listened to JBowles rustle about next to her as he prepared his rocket launcher. Soylent clutched the heavy gauss machine gun across from her. If they had any luck, the enemy wouldn't be looking up and she would have time to prepare the weapon before they engaged. Merlin could hear the blood rushing in her ears, fueled by an endless supply of adrenaline as the anticipation of battle made her insides tighten up into a knot. She could see all the details in the cracked floor before her: the eraser of a pencil in that crack, a dead spider on top of that triangular piece of debris.

"I see them," Vherid called in a whisper and Merlin drew in a long, deep breath.

_Go,_ she mouthed and gave the hand signal for Soylent to prepare her weapon. The gunner stepped out from behind her wall and propped the heavy gauss machine gun on the edge of the crumbled wall. The rest of the squad were quick to follow suit. As Merlin stepped out to look upon the enemy she could feel herself stretched thin: a spring wound up and ready to snap into action.

The mechtoid was at the head of the formation of aliens patrolling down the intersection. The remnants of the warehouse were between them and the squad, but from their elevated position Strike-1 could easily see over the metal walls. The enemy realized what hit them only after the thump and_ swoosh _of the rocket launcher.

"_OPEN FIRE!_" Merlin's command was drowned out by the thunderous roar of high explosives and the cracking of supersonic bullets as magnetized gauss weapons spewed death and destruction upon the enemy. The mechtoid was torn apart in an instant as the shaped warhead cracked open the armor. A flurry from Soylent's machine gun and a massive slug from Vherid's railgun followed, punching through the mechanized alien with ease.

The rest of the creatures scampered into cover as their main weapons platform was busted open. Using the delivery van and the cars littering the sides of the road, they prepared to respond. "Kill the commanders!" Merlin screamed as the gauss rifle hammered her shoulder, sending a burst of alloy rounds towards the closest red sectoid. Merlin could've sworn she connected through the plating of the car, but the alien didn't care. It peeked out and sent a stream of green energy towards their position.

Soylent grunted as the shot connected. The machine gun clattered to the floor as she fell backwards into the building. AlexD was instantly on the scene, grabbing the gunner from under her arms and dragging her into safety. "I'm fine! I'm fucking fine!" The Australian corporal screamed as AlexD examined her shoulder.

"No you're not," the medic said calmly as he took a medikit from the table behind him.

Merlin pulled into cover in response to a stream of plasma. The green fire scorched the back wall of their makeshift bunker, leaving a dark and ugly stain. "How long Doc? We need that suppressive fire!" Merlin yelled over the sounds of the firefight as AlexD worked on Soylent.

"Just a second," the medic answered routinely, focused on the treatment rather than the answer.

Merlin peeked around the wall before pulling back into cover as another barrage blasted past her. They needed Soylent's machine gun to make the crossfire work. The sounds of battle had already spread to the remnants of the warehouse and the cars littering the street beyond it. Their flanking element was already engaged. Gritting her teeth, Merlin pushed the worries off her mind. Peeking around the corner, she took another shot.

* * *

Calling the wall 'metal' was an overstatement. It was merely a thin sheet, and Daishi wouldn't have trusted it to stop a small caliber bullet, let alone an outsider's plasma carbine, but it worked just fine for concealment. She turned to regard the two operatives pressed up against the wall behind her. Wolfer's eyes were vicious behind the visor of his helmet. The headgear reminded Daishi of a bulldog, the way the visor was cut down the middle, ending in a stubbed snout. The big assault was just as fierce as ever. Behind him, Wootastic was a hobbit compared to the South African. But her expression was determined under her ballcap and headset as she gripped the small gauss stuttergun in her hands. They would follow her into battle. On her order, they would put their lives on the line. The responsibility of command always weighed heavily on Daishi's shoulders.

"Follow me," she whispered. The two operatives nodded in response. They knew what the plan was, Daishi didn't doubt them for a moment. It was more for her own sake, to calm her own nerves.

Out of nowhere, the familiar blast of the rocket launcher rang over the silent ruins. Daishi perked up and tightened her grip on her gauss rifle. The deafening explosion was followed by gunfire from the office block, the signature punch of the gauss long rifle standing out from the sea of cracks.

Without a word, Daishi sprang around the corner and into the streets. She could see two outsiders, scrambling into cover against Merlin's position. They were pinned down by a relentless hail of bullets. The smoking husk of the mechtoid tumbled past the aliens, breaking apart more and more with every roll. Taking cover behind a rusting car, Daishi took aim and squeezed the trigger.

One of the outsiders was rattled hard by the impact as it turned to regard its enemy's unexpected position. Wolfer crashed into cover next to Daishi and fired wildly with his alloy cannon. One of the shots missed, but the other one found its mark and the alien exploded, spreading vivid orange dust amidst the gray debris of the block.

Taking advantage of the confusion, Daishi vaulted over the hood of the car and dove against the next one. The relentless torrent of alloy rounds from the office building was cut short, freeing the enemy to maneuver against them. Another outsider sprang into action from behind the white delivery van and a hail of plasma made Daishi duck for cover.

"Stay back!" the scout yelled over the blasting of the enemy's carbines as she saw Wolfer ready to pounce forwards. Wootastic was hunkering next to the assault, firing her gauss PDW in the enemy's direction to little effect.

Something was wrong. There wasn't enough fire from across the building, letting the outsiders focus on the assault team. Daishi gritted her teeth as she got ready to fall back. This was what she did best after all, ducking and weaving her way through the battlefield with plasma flying past her head. But before she had the time to take off, she could feel it: a foreign presence prodding at her consciousness, wriggling its way under her skin.

What happened to Daishi was hard to explain. The closest to the experience was a salvia trip: One moment you're aware of the drug, seeping into your bloodstream through the burning smoke in your lungs. And then the next moment your consciousness was elevated. The fact you were smoking salvia forgotten in milliseconds, allowing you to experience anything and everything with no reservations as to who or even what you were before.

It was the same for Daishi. For a brief moment, she tried to fight the sensation. And then, in the blink of an eye, it was inside her, filling her world with joy and purpose. This was how it had always been. Tears filled her eyes as she experienced the beauty of it all. She could hear Him, like she had always secretly wanted to since she was six years old, kneeling in her room for her first bedtime prayer. She was an instrument of God. It was clear to her now. Daishi rose to her feet and turned to face the enemy of the Lord.

Their lives would never be the same again.

* * *

"What the fuck is she doing?" Merlin yelled as she saw Daishi through the gap in the warehouse walls. The scout was crouched behind a rusty car, her back towards the enemy. The gauss rifle beat against her shoulder as she fired the weapon. Merlin couldn't see them, but there was no way the aliens had made it past her. She was shooting at Wolfer and Wootastic.

Merlin pulled into cover and brought a hand to the communication interface on the side of her helmet. "Zamboni this is Dan'hax. Cease fire, I repeat, cease fire! You're firing on friendlies, for fuck's sake!" Only silence greeted her on the comm. link though around her, the sounds of battle raged on. "Zamboni, come in," she yelled into her mic once again. "Daishi, can you hear me? _Daishi!_"

Chills prickled at Merlin's eyeballs as she turned to Soylent. The gunner had been patched up by AlexD, the pain of the machine gun jackhammering her wounded shoulder dampened by a cocktail of numbing drugs. "Pin her down, corporal!" Merlin ordered. Soylent gave her squad leader a doubtful look. The infantrywoman released her spent magazine and yelled at the gunner as she reached for a new one, "Did I fucking stutter? Lock her down!"

Soylent pulled into cover from the aliens and reoriented her weapon towards the warehouse and the street beyond. She fired a short burst over the hood of the car wreckage, but it didn't have any effect on Daishi. The scout fired again towards the back of the warehouse, the sight mercifully blocked by the sheet metal walls. Soylent squeezed the trigger and sent a storm of rounds across Daishi's front. She would have to flinch. She had to.

The decision came in a split second. Soylent saw Daishi rise, placing a hand on the hood of the car. _Don't you do it. Don't you fucking do it, man, _she thought as the scout began to leap over the car. She would be absolutely torn to shreds by the stream of alloy rounds. Happy birthday, Daishi.

With a wordless scream, Soylent pulled hard on the machine gun and released the trigger. The last dozen rounds went flying over Daishi's head, sinking into the cars littering the parking lot beyond her, filling the air with the chiming of a dozen clear bells.

"Fuck!" Soylent yelled as the scout disappeared behind the wall. Slamming her weapon into the wall before her, she poured everything into her shout, "_Fuck!_"

* * *

AlexD had acted on instinct. He had been the only one to see what happened: The sectoid commander behind the delivery van, shaking violently as it stared towards Daishi. The first gunshots from the scout in the wrong direction, and the alien scampering off into the ruins. With only a quick 'cover me!' the medic had bolted for the stairs, jumping into the corridor below and diving out the door on the side facing the street, sprinting across before the outsiders had averted their eyes from the second floor.

The medic crashed in through the door hanging on its hinges. The wood broke into a dozen splinters, clattering on the dusty floor as AlexD turned right. The corridor was completely blocked off by rubble. Cursing under his breath, he wheeled around and darted through the hallways of the building, hoping he would find his way across. Discovering a path that cut through the ruins, he swung his gauss rifle from left to right, sprinting as fast as he could. A row of crumbled windows greeted him on the other side. Slowing his frantic run into a walk, he shouldered his rifle and scanned outside.

AlexD's rifle snapped on target and he sent a burst of alloys between two piles of concrete. The bony backside of the sectoid commander disappeared from his sights, but not before leaving a pool of yellow ichor behind. Keeping his breathing going hard, AlexD vaulted through the window.

The stream of plasma almost ended his life. Instead, the green fire only scorched the rim of the combat medic's ballcap. Crashing into the ground and adopting a prone position, AlexD brought his weapon on target, completely exposed in the alley between two buildings. The enemy was already gone, continuing its retreat through the devastated district.

The flight couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes, but to AlexD it felt like a journey of his lifetime. He was Captain Ahab, on an endless hunt for his white whale. Peeking around another corner, sending another bullet wide of the target, dodging another stream of plasma. Steadily, the pursuit led him towards the open plaza and the UFO crash site. The tiled floor of the open ground had been torn open as the alien craft had plowed its way through to the other side. Ruined buildings reached for the skies like the jagged nails of a giant, circling the central square and ending at a massive mound of rubble, piled up on top of the UFO.

AlexD peered in through the window of another building he had dashed through. He was certain the commander was hiding behind that still-standing concrete element, with its back to the open ground. If it was trying to retreat to the UFO, he would have it. All he had to do was wait.

His headset buzzed and cracked to life, and Merlin's voice came through, _"Doc, Dan'hax. Where the hell are you? We have a man down, get your ass over here right NOW!"_

AlexD stared at the slab of concrete on the edge of the plaza. He was certain the enemy was behind it. Sure of it. Gritting his teeth, he kicked the wall before him in frustration before pulling back through the building. "Dan'hax, Doc. I'm en route. Over." With one last look over his shoulder, AlexD took off as fast as he could.

* * *

Daishi jumped over the hood of the car, and the bullets flew harmlessly over her head. Of course they did. They wouldn't shoot her. They thought she was still one of them. It was strange, the clarity she had been given. How she hadn't seen it before; how they still didn't see it. Mankind could be so blind.

Wolfer was crouched behind the last car at the end of the warehouse. The assault tried to rise up to shout at her, only to be forced back down by another barrage of high-energy flying towards him. Daishi smiled as she looked upon the big man. She still remembered the awkward manner in which he had tried to hit on her in the TV room back in April. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since then. He was a good man, even if a little cumbersome.

"I'm sorry," Daishi whispered as Wolfer rose up from behind the car. He tried to pull away, holding a hand out in front of him, calling out to her in desperation. Daishi squeezed the trigger.

The bullets sank into Wolfer's stomach and abdomen, throwing him back. He crashed against a green dumpster before slumping to the ground. A dark stain was left on the surface behind him. Daishi turned away from his lifeless body and rounded the corner of the warehouse.

"Support! Need support _NOW_!" Wootastic screamed in panic as she scrambled away from Daishi. The scout turned to take aim, but the petite engineer disappeared behind the sheet metal, diving into the interior of the ruined warehouse.

_She's the least dangerous of them,_ Daishi thought as she turned to look for another one of God's enemies. Vherid was scrambling down the slope of debris at the front of the office building. The sniper held the massive gauss long rifle in one hand, medikit in the other. His face was shocked under his green beanie, his thin dark moustache as ridiculous as ever. He was so much more to Daishi than just a squad member or a roommate. He was a friend. She took aim and squeezed the trigger.

The sniper screamed as he dove under the gunfire. He found cover behind a ridiculously small concrete beam. It would be easy to finish him if she got just a little bit closer. _Why am I walking? That's ridiculous,_ Daishi thought as she sprinted towards Vherid. _They won't kill me anyway. Just get in there._

She would be on him soon enough. But the small sniper did something Daishi hadn't accounted for. He sprang up from behind his only cover, leaving the heavy rifle on the ground and rushing towards her left. _Is he insane?_ Daishi thought as she slowed down to a walk and took aim.

"_You fucking BITCH!" _Daishi veered to the right just in time, pulling the trigger. Two rounds sank into Merlin's side as she stumbled mid-run, the punch of the magnetized gauss rifle almost stopping her in her tracks. But the infantrywoman kept going, diving headlong at Daishi. The scout let out a surprised grunt as Merlin tackled her, throwing them both to the ground.

The impact knocked the wind out of her, and Daishi failed to grab a hold of her assailant's neck. Instead, she only managed to pull her helmet off. Merlin was screaming incoherently as she pushed herself up to her knees. Jerking hard on the scout's weapon, she tossed the rifle aside.

The first strike landed squarely on Daishi's nose, and blood rushed her palate and sinuses as the impact broke her nose with a sickening crunch. The second strike landed in the side of her head, throwing her around and bloodying her temple against the rough ground. The third strike landed in her right eye, smashing her head against the concrete and opening her eyebrow.

Merlin grabbed onto her head and slammed it to the ground. Digging her thumbs into the corners of her eyes, she snarled through gritted teeth, _"You. Fucking. BITCH!" _With each word she pressed harder, her gloved fingers digging deep into Daishi's face, breaking her skin.

_She wants to kill me,_ Daishi thought as she squinted up at Merlin, her entire face aching and burning as all of the wounds mixed into one. The infantrywoman's face was twisted into a snarl of madness: her eyes burning with fury, blood and saliva bubbling in the corner of her mouth. _Why? What is going on?_

It all came back to Daishi in one massive strike to the soul. The consciousness prickling away under her skin, the foreign presence she had tried to fight off. Of course she hadn't seen the face of God. She had learned that ages ago from the father of her congregation: He only spoke to us in our hearts, through the lives we led. _Oh my God. What have I done? Oh no, no, no._

"It's me!" a voice foreign to Daishi croaked through a mouthful of blood. "It's me, Merlin!" The Mexican was holding onto her face with one hand, the other raised and clenched into a fist. The glove was dark and wet with blood. _She wants to kill me. She's going to do it,_ Daishi thought as she saw the moment of hesitation turn into anger in Merlin's eyes. The infantrywoman brought her fist down hard.

A cloud of dust stung at Daishi's eyes and wounds as Merlin's fist slammed into the ground next to her. The squad leader hung her head low, tears brimming in her eyes and her raggedy curls framing her desolate face. "Fuck," she gasped before falling to the ground next to Daishi, covering her eyes with her hand.

"I'm sorry Merlin, I—I don't…"

Daishi's panic was cut short as Merlin snapped, "Shut the fuck up! Get back out there or I swear to god I will pull my sidearm and melt away that miserable fucking mug you call a face! _MOVE!_"

"Yes," Daishi mumbled as she struggled up to her knees, searching frantically for her gauss rifle. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir," her hands shook as she lifted the weapon. Once again she saw Wolfer, sliding down the side of the dumpster. In an unsteady gait, she took off towards the ruined warehouse.

Merlin lay on the ground for a while longer, gathering herself. With a loud gob, she spat out a lump of blood and mucus. Getting up, she picked up her rifle and looked towards the crossroads. Luckily for them, the remaining enemies were stuck behind the white delivery van, blocked out of sight behind the sheet metal walls.

Joining Daishi in the fight, Merlin made sure to stay behind the scout. One wrong move, and the bitch would be dead.

* * *

The battle at the intersection came to a close soon after. JBowles, Wootastic and Soylent had managed to keep the remaining two outsiders at bay and with Daishi, AlexD, Merlin and Vherid joining the fight, the aliens were quickly overwhelmed.

Vherid had managed to stabilize Wolfer. The assault had been bleeding out fast but the sniper had made it to him just in time, thanks to the intervention by Merlin. Thanks to the medical expertise of AlexD it looked like he would survive, but they were on borrowed time. Clearing the site of the last remaining alien was paramount. Big Sky would not make a landing before that unless it was for an emergency evacuation; no one from Strike-1 was willing to let the sectoid commander go after what it had done.

"The thing must be at the crash site. I chased him all the way to the edge of the plaza," AlexD said while checking the bandages running across Wolfer's stomach. They had stripped the carapace armor off him and the white gauze was quickly turning red again.

Merlin contemplated on the words for a moment. "Can we move him?" she asked, her tone curt and to-the-point.

AlexD shook his head. "I wouldn't. He's torn up pretty bad. I need to change the bandages again," the medic said, pulling his satchel of medical supplies closer.

"Alright. Keep him stable. Vherid, you'll stay behind and cover for them. The rest of you are on me. We're taking this fucking bastard out." Merlin looked around her squad. Soylent was covering her sector with her gauss machine gun held against her injured shoulder. The gunner seemed unfazed by the events. Similarly, JBowles was focused and calm, much to Merlin's surprise. She had expected the rocketeer to be the first one to soil his pants when things had gone to hell. Wootastic was fidgeting around, clearly anxious to get going. Merlin had never understood the petite engineer and her undisciplined energy.

Lastly, there was Daishi. The scout was staring off into the distance, her face covered in already darkening bruises. Her cheeks, mouth and eyes were caked with dried blood. Her blonde hair had come loose of its bun, the fair strands sticking to her bloodied face. Merlin swallowed the anger that flared up inside her. They had all heard the reports from various Council nation's armed forces. The sectoids with their bulging red craniums, wielding advanced psionic powers the likes of which they had never seen before. She couldn't help it. It wasn't her fault. Merlin didn't believe it for a moment.

_It would've been easier if I'd just shot you. For both of us, _Merlin thought despondently as she turned towards the intersection and the plaza that lay beyond the ruined blocks. "Move out," she ordered and the diminished roster of Strike-1 gathered around her as Vherid and AlexD stayed behind with Wolfer.

They swept through the ruins, following AlexD's instructions. They came across the site where the combat medic had tagged the creature. The trail of yellow ichor went on for a moment until the ground covered in gray rubble was clear once again. There was no use hoping the creature had died of the wound: Even though their bodies appeared fragile, the sectoid commanders were genetically modified to regenerate lost tissue. Moreover, their minds were incredibly strong. It was like the pain and wounds didn't exist to them. Merlin grinned as she thought about it. Wootastic was carrying the arc thrower. _We'll see how you like Doctor Vahlen's treatment, you little bitch._

The sun had been completely blotted out as dark clouds gathered above the city. The plaza looked bleak and abandoned, the mouth of the buried UFO resembling the hungry maw of some mythical beast on the far side. The squad cleared the surrounding ruins with fast-paced efficiency. Wolfer's life was on the line.

"The fucker's definitely inside," Merlin concluded as their search turned up nothing. A rough plan was forming in her head for rousting the alien out. Leaving Soylent halfway towards the UFO on the side of the plaza, Merlin took JBowles all the way around to the other side to cover the entrance in a crossfire. Meanwhile, Daishi and Wootastic made their way towards the alien craft. If the creature refused to show itself, they would close the distance and breach in unison.

The capture squad made their way towards the end of the plaza in purposeful bounds, dashing from one pile of rubble to the next, avoiding the open ground directly in front of the UFO. They were a mere ten meters from the objective and Merlin was about to call for the rotation of the whole squad. The sectoid made its move.

The alien dashed up to the doorway of its craft, eyes glowing with psionic strength. A sharp cry of pain cut through the silence of the gloomy plaza and Soylent stumbled out into the open. Merlin perked up as she looked towards the gunner. Soylent was muttering to herself, throwing her head back and forth, swinging her machine gun wildly as she struggled against outside control.

"_Go!_" Merlin yelled, sending a burst of suppressive fire at the alien wrestling for control over her squad member. Wootastic and Daishi sprang forth instantly. The scout managed to find an angle on the sectoid, capping the alien in its knee. The creature fell over with a squeal and Soylent screamed in pain, jerking hard on her weapon. She released the belt and ammo box of her machine gun and the ammunition clattered to the ground as the gunner came to a halt in the middle of the plaza.

Wootastic was through the doorway in a flash. Bringing the arc thrower on target, she released a healthy dosage of high-voltage energy at the enemy. The sectoid twitched once before crumpling to the ground.

"_Woo-hoo!_ Ride the lightning, you little shit!" The engineer's chipper cry marked the end of the long and arduous battle for the crashed Scout.

Merlin let out a sigh of relief as she glanced at Soylent. The gunner was reeling in the middle of the plaza, gauss machine gun's muzzle pointing towards the ground, one hand on her temple. Daishi stumbled out of the rubble surrounding the central square, making her way towards the lone figure. "Soylent, you alright? I know. You did great, Soylent. I know how hard it is." The scout's words were forlorn as she weaved her way through the debris littering the ground.

Merlin shot her an irritated glance. The desire was still there, to shoulder her rifle and put a bullet between her treacherous eyes. Shaking her head, Merlin got ready to call Big Sky.

Soylent bent over without a word, picking up the dropped ammo box. Merlin dug the radio handset from her belt. The headset inside her helmet had been left behind at the crossroads. She had completely forgotten about it. Looking back towards Soylent, Merlin's brow furrowed. There was a niggling concern inside her, a soldier's intuition. Something wasn't right. Soylent attached the box back into her machine gun. Daishi was halfway across the plaza now. The belt of alloy rounds went into the weapon and Merlin's eyes widened.

"Daishi get back! Get _BACK!_" Merlin's frantic shout was followed by a resounding clang as Soylent chambered a round into her weapon.

"_IT'S KILLING TIME!_"

Soylent's shout was followed by a deafening roar of gunfire as the gauss machine gun went wild in her hands. The gunner spun out of control, the heavy weapon buckling in her grasp as the bullets flew wildly all over the plaza. Daishi covered her face as she dashed to the side, diving into cover behind an outcropping of concrete. Grit and debris filled the air as the gunner went ballistic, firing at the buildings surrounding the square, plowing the ground, spraying wildly into the air.

"What the fuck!?" Merlin screamed as she glued herself to the ground next to JBowles. The rocketeer's mouth was open in horror as he stared at Merlin. _There's that spoonful in your britches._ The thought would've made her holler with laughter if it wasn't for the shock. The rubble they were hiding behind kicked up dust as Soylent's cone of fire passed them by. The alloy rounds sank into the cover and filled their ears with high-pitched pings as bullets ricocheted off the steel beams of the concrete element.

Merlin peeked out as the fire passed them by. She could see Daishi looking towards her from behind her measly cover. The scout was flat on her stomach and the ground before her was beaten by a hail of metal as Soylent continued her rampage. The mind controlled soldier seemed to have gained command over her weapon somewhat, steadily spinning around and around, bringing the weapon over Daishi's hiding spot and onto the other side of the plaza. It was now or never. Merlin met Daishi's gaze and a moment of silent communication passed between the two of them. There was no need for psionics.

JBowles' cry of dismay followed Merlin as she jumped out of cover. Legging it as fast as she could, she sprinted for Soylent. However, Daishi was closer. She had always been the fastest runner in the outfit. With a grunt, the scout tackled Soylent from behind. An eerie silence fell over the gloomy plaza as the gunner lost her grip on the machine gun. Crashing to the ground, Soylent kicked and flung her arms about furiously, like a child throwing a temper tantrum. Daishi received an elbow to the chin, causing her eyes to roll in their sockets from the shock. But she refused to let go.

Merlin arrived at the scene, grabbing onto Soylent who had managed to struggle out from under Daishi. Taking her roommate by the shoulders, Merlin screamed frantically as she pulled her up. Using her own weight to get the gunner moving, Merlin threw her to the ground and crashed herself on top of the still fighting soldier. _What the hell is this,_ Merlin thought in horror as Soylent continued to squirm under her. She caught a glimpse of the gunner's face as she turned her head: foaming at the mouth, eyes rolling and darting wildly back and forth.

Realizing she was pinned, the thing that used to be Soylent took a new approach. Swinging her head sharply backwards, she caught Merlin squarely on the forehead, just narrowly missing her nose. "Help me hold her down! Fucking _now!_" the infantrywoman yelled and Daishi took Soylent's kicking legs. Grabbing the gunner by her hair, Merlin pushed her head down. It was a mistake.

To Merlin's horror, Soylent ground her face against the jagged tiling of the plaza. The concrete under her stained red, and Merlin could see scraps of skin and strands of blonde hair sticking to the dark stains. _Holy Mother Mary and Jesus Christ in heavens,_ the not-so religious catholic inside her swore in shock.

A haunted, rising wail pierced through her daze, bringing Merlin back. Grabbing Soylent in a stranglehold, she pulled her head up from the ground. The cry of the creature under her slowly died down, replaced by gags as she gasped for air. Looking up, Merlin saw JBowles staring at them. The rocketeer's mouth was slowly opening and closing, making him look like a flounder on dry land. His eyes were fixated on Soylent's face. Merlin was glad she couldn't see it herself.

"What the hell are you just standing there for!? Call Big Sky right fucking now, Diesel, or I swear to God I will rip your fucking nuts out and feed them to this snarling beast! Tell them to fucking _MOVE THEIR ASS_!" JBowles shifted his eyes from Soylent to Merlin. It took a moment before the message sank in and the rocketeer reached for his radio handset.

Soylent's struggling had died down a little and Merlin loosened her hold on her. But as soon as she did the wailing began anew and the gunner slammed her head downwards. With a sharp cuss Merlin grabbed a hold of her again.

_This is fucking beautiful. Now I'll end up killing one of our own by accident after all._

* * *

The small windows set in the double doors gave sight to the emergency room. Daishi's hand was shaking as she touched the cool glass. Her face was horrifically swollen, cut and bruised all over and her right eye was completely walled up. Tears rolled down her cheeks, even finding a way through the black contours and bumps of her right socket. _Oh dear God let him live. Please, take my life for his. Not… not like this. Don't let him go like this._

On the other side, in the sterile white of the emergency room, Wolfer lay on a hospital cot. The big assault was hooked onto life support, the EKG next to him spiking steadily, but oh so ponderously. He was just barely holding on. At least his face looked calm under the oxygen mask. He was a strong man. He would live. He had to live.

Pressing her forehead against the glass, Daishi closed her eyes and sent out another prayer for the man lying on the other side. The man she had shot.

* * *

Psionic Trooper First Class Hypergeek gave his clean shaven chin a contemplative rub. He was standing next to the door leading into the detention cell. The room was dark, barren metal, illuminated by bright fluorescent tubes in the ceiling. A one-way window spanned the length of the wall. The focus of the psionic engineer was in the middle of the room.

A blonde woman was sitting on a metal chair bolted to the floor. Her face was almost completely wrapped in bandages. Her arms and legs were tethered to the chair with leather restraints. A gag held her mouth open. She had almost managed to chew off her tongue but the surgeons had sown her back together under anesthesia. The drugs had already worn off but she wasn't moving. She just stared at Hypergeek through the window, her eyes empty sockets deep under the bandages. The engineer had an unsettling feeling she could see him.

Hypergeek thought back to the briefing with Doctor Vahlen. The scientist was a brilliant mind no doubt, but even she had nothing to back her theories with. This was a case unlike anything seen before on Earth. They had called upon the best of the best to deal with it, and Hypergeek had answered. As to exactly what he had to do, he had no idea. But where others may have seen an insurmountable challenge, he saw an opportunity. Another opportunity to prove himself.

Staring at Soylent, Hypergeek turned his attention inwards. For him, the psionic powers were nothing visual. They were a deep well of power, a well of utmost confidence and belief in himself, residing deep inside. A challenge. Yes, it was a most wonderful of challenges. Hypergeek turned to his left and gave the two men operating the detention cell and its surveillance systems a nod. The lock on the door screamed and the metal slid aside.

Hypergeek stepped inside. His mind honed, his will unwavering.


	67. Chapter 67: Ever after

Chapter 67: Ever after

28th of November, 2015

XCOM Asia HQ

_Kill them. Kill them all._

Vherid's head snapped backwards, the slope of concrete rubble painted red behind him. She held the trigger down, pulling hard on her weapon and Merlin was torn open from neck to crotch. Soylent was next up on the second floor, the gauss machine gun falling from her lifeless grasp. All of her comrades poured out of the ruins of the office building: Kilroy, Renzol, Scuba, DSM, Volatile… even Frag and Foogleman, destined to die another death. Her magazine was endless as Daishi held her ground, her vision blurred by tears of blood. She couldn't stop. She had to kill them all.

Daishi broke free of her nightmare with a scream of terror. She crashed to the ground, in the pitch black darkness of Room Charlie. Her heart was racing a thousand beats per minute as she struggled up to her knees in panic. The blanket caught around her ankles as she stumbled towards the door. Desperately looking for solid footing on the ground, she sprang to her feet and barged out the door.

The dim orange lighting of the corridors stung at her eyes as Daishi sprinted for the bathroom. Her feet were unsteady under her as she threw open the door, slipping on the white tiles. A jolt of pain shot up the nerves in her knee but still she scrambled up. She was sniffling frantically, the nightmare still fresh in her mind. Finally reaching the row of sinks, she turned the faucet on and splashed cold water all over her face. She couldn't sleep. She had to stay awake. The water burned painfully on her swollen and bruised face.

Resting her head in the sink, Daishi felt the horror slowly dissipate. For now. It would come back, without a fail. No, that was a lie: It never left. Instead it chose to lurk somewhere deep within her mind.

_Please Father, take this cup from me. Not my will, but yours be done._ Violent sobs overtook Daishi as she fell deeper into despair. How could she even pray for herself anymore, after what she had done? Yet she couldn't help but yearn for forgiveness, for mercy. Something, _anything_ to transform the Hell her life had become; to make everything right again.

Daishi wept quietly for a while longer. Eventually, she managed to look up into the mirror. She hardly recognized herself anymore. Her face was covered in cuts and multi-colored bruises, the swollen area of her right eye still a deep violet. It hadn't been enough. She had deserved more. Wiping the snot from her nose she splashed her face with more water, trying to hide the red of her eyes.

The intensity of her emotions slowly died down to dull aching, weighing heavy on her heart. Where would she go? She didn't want to inconvenience her sleeping roommates by rummaging for her training gear. Not that she felt like training anyway. All strength had been sapped from her weary soul. Finally she gave up looking for an answer, deciding to simply return to her rack. She couldn't sleep, but at least she could just lie down. Wait for another day of routine: something to keep her occupied.

Daishi slipped back into her room and closed the door behind her. Gingerly making her way over, she felt for her blanket and found it in the middle of the floor. She folded it onto her rack before laying herself down, staring off into the darkness. She was unaware of DSM lying awake in the bunk above hers.

The psionic scout knew of the nightly interruptions to Daishi's rest. She had tried to talk to her after the first instance, but the usually so open woman had completely shut her out.

DSM always had a sullen and brooding personality. During her adolescence, the other kids in school had laughed at her black clothes, heavy makeup and the gothic metal she listened to with its ridiculously melodramatic lyrics. Some of her mannerisms had worn off with age, but she was still someone who walked her own path.

DSM opened her mind into an empty opera house. Ascending rows of cushioned seats circled the main stage, the great hall's multiple balconies framed by curtains of scarlet-red velvet. She heard the music, the irregular chimes and tunes welling deep within. She concentrated on the sensation, silently composing: shaping, molding, twisting the music to her needs. The melody settled into a steady, slow stream of minor piano and harp. She closed her mental space until nothing but the sound filled her mind. Holding the music with her will, she reached out and touched upon Daishi's consciousness.

It wasn't mind-reading; DSM had no idea how to do that, and she was afraid her intrusion would be noticed if she tried. Instead, she let Daishi's state of mind slip into her own. Despair, self-loathing, desolation… the veil of negative emotions wrapped around DSM. The all-encompassing music she held within the temple of her mind helped defend against the screaming anguish from Daishi's consciousness. Hunting frantically, she couldn't find a single trace of the bright and sunny woman she had come to know and love. With a deep sigh DSM let the opera house collapse, both the music and dark emotions dying with it. She was left with only her own feelings of helplessness and incapability.

There was nothing she could do for Daishi.

* * *

Soylent sat on the ascetic bed of the detention cell, knees pulled up to her chin. White gauze ran all the way around her forehead. Her cheeks, nose and chin were still covered with patches of bandages. She was dressed in simple trousers and a T-shirt as she listened to the man standing on the other side of the cell.

"Back in _GIGN_ we had this dog. A… what is it? _Chien de détection_… detector dog?" Hypergeek frowned as he searched for the correct word.

"Sniffer dog?" Soylent helped him along.

"_Oui,_ that's it. A bomb sniffer. _Beaumont _was the finest sniffer dog I ever worked with. Such a _magnifique_ creature! Labradors really are the best for the job. I've worked with Pitbulls and Beagles and…" The engineer let out a dismissive laugh, "We'll just leave it at that, _d'acc_?" Hypergeek paused as he thought about how to continue the story. All the while Soylent watched him quietly from her place on the bed.

Soylent had been cleared free of outside control two days ago, but the gunner had insisted on remaining in detention for a while longer. She wasn't quite feeling herself yet. Though who could tell when she would? Maybe she'd never return to normal. Her mind was still scattered: She had a hard time sleeping, she would lose track of her thoughts in the middle of a task and she got tongue-tied easily when trying to speak in long sentences. Emotionally, she was feeling surprisingly fine. The psychiatrist had warned her that could change in an instant. The shock of what had happened may not have struck her at full-force yet. Soylent really didn't care. She didn't like thinking about it.

Putting the person known as Soylent Green back together had been a long and draining task. Hypergeek had reached out his will and touched upon the ragged remains of Soylent's consciousness. It had been a complete mess. The sectoid commander had gone on a rampage through the woman's mind, throwing everything into chaos and ruin. Hypergeek had felt its presence: a weakened and exhausted mind so foreign it couldn't have belonged to a human being, trapped inside her. Expelling it had been easy once the alien's body had been brought out of sedation. A psionic boot to its mentally encroaching backside had sent the intruder back into its own skin. Hypergeek had sensed relief from the alien; whatever had happened following the separation of its mind from body must have been as unpleasant for the sectoid as it had been for Soylent.

Hypergeek had stood amidst the ruins of Soylent's very mind. It formed itself into a small suite around his psionic presence, thrown into complete and utter disarray. Soiled carpets, overturned tables, paintings and framed pictures scattered about the floor, cardboard boxes spilling small personal items into the nooks and crannies of the sofa's cushions. Kitchen utensils were tossed into the sink, knives were sticking out of the walls and the refrigerator was left open, leaking water on the stained floor. Walking up to the windows barely hanging on in their frames, Hypergeek had looked outside. The home had been surrounded by stormy clouds and raging seas, their deep murky depths holding who knows what horrors. Not knowing what else to do, Hypergeek had begun cleaning up the mess.

It had been an impossible task. As soon as he hung a picture back on the wall, more items seemed to appear on the floor. Meticulously, he had gone through the apartment, trying to find the proper place for everything. Sometimes, he would get a vision when picking something up. Her childhood room of six years old, and a curious first kiss with her best friend. The backseat of an old beat-up Toyota after the formal, a bottle of vodka and her first boyfriend. A drill sergeant hazing her in the rain, heaping misogyny and abuse on her as she broke under the weight of her combat gear, tears running down her face. The pure satisfaction flooding over her as she barked her first orders as a second lieutenant, smirking at the bastard's incredulous expression.

The visions had made him feel uncomfortable, and Hypergeek had done his best to avoid delving into the memories. But as he placed the personal items around the house, it was becoming more and more apparent the ordering wasn't right. Only the items he had felt a connection with were in the right places. So he began anew, this time examining each piece of Soylent's life. He learned to only peek deep enough to know where the memory belonged: sometimes, a smell was enough, or a vague feeling of joy or sorrow. Sometimes he had to go deep, re-living something as harmless as the day of her worst hangover; other times it was a profound moment, or something private, something she had never shared with anyone. The awkwardness of experiencing her life slowly dissipated as their psionic connection deepened. Beginning to feel as if they were his own, Hypergeek handled the memories with utmost respect: placing the brittle vase carefully back on the drawer, making sure the family picture was hung plum on the wall.

The task had seemed impossible when he had started, yet somehow it seemed to get easier with time, even if there was still a million items to set right. Hypergeek had grown weary, the rate at which he put Soylent back together growing slower. Yet the house had seemed to be in better and better shape. That's when he had seen her.

The girl was in her late teens, casually strolling around in nothing but a pair of white panties and an old T-shirt. She was humming a song to herself as late afternoon light swarmed the apartment through the open blinds; the rage of the winds had died down, and the waters surrounding her home were calm. Bending over, she picked up an old folding knife with a decorated handle. Smiling, the girl flipped the blade open and slammed it into the drawer, leaving it standing amidst a row of scrapes and scratches. Hypergeek had thought it was the sectoid's doing. With a smile, he had left Soylent to clean up the rest of the mess. Releasing the psionic connection, he had crashed to the ground, his body in open revolt. He had been standing by her side for fourteen straight hours.

"We were responding to a bomb threat in _Toulouse_," Hypergeek continued, speaking slowly and meticulously, "Some anarchist sons of bitches who thought it a good idea to blow up the post office. Real amateurs, it should've been a routine op. The surveillance team really fucked up. Bunch of _abrutis._ The back of the site was supposed to be clear when we breached. Secure the explosives while the rest of the boys storm the building. Some little shit who wasn't supposed to be there pulled a pistol on me." The engineer went quiet as he thought back to the operation.

"_Beaumont_ never barked. He was such a _professionnel_. The best at what he did." _Like me,_ Hypergeek thought, but he didn't speak the words out loud. "He must have known what would happen. The bark scared that little shit and he actually lowered his gun. Can you believe that? What a fucking fine _terroriste_. Jacques, my partner, put him full of bullets after that. But not before he took the shot."

Silence fell over the detention cell as Hypergeek mused on his thoughts. Soylent waited patiently for him to continue. When the engineer didn't follow up, she cleared her throat. "What happened then?"

Hypergeek looked at Soylent, brought back from his thoughts. "_Beaumont_ didn't make it. And that's it."

The gunner gave him a wary look, "That's it? The entire story?"

"_Oui_," Hypergeek concluded. The silence stretched on for a while longer before Hypergeek spoke up, "I'll come tomorrow?"

Soylent wrapped her arms around her knees and shifted her eyes downwards. She looked so meek and vulnerable. "My dischar—dischargea—I'm leaving tomorrow. For Alpha."

"_Ah_," Hypergeek acknowledged before falling silent. "I'll see you around," the engineer bid farewell as he started towards the door. He was about to signal through the darkened window but something made him change his mind. Turning around, Hypergeek finished the story.

"Sometimes… sometimes I wonder. If it had been me instead of _Beaumont_. Would everyone in the force have been so sad? Would anyone have missed Hypergeek?" Soylent met his eyes. A short silence passed between them before she responded with a solemn nod.

Hypergeek waved his hand to the man on the other side and the door slid open. Leaving the detention cell, he left Soylent to dwell on his words.

* * *

Merlin stared at the white wall of the medbay. She was so fucking _bored_. The only other operatives in were Renzol and Petete and neither was capable of keeping Merlin distracted. Petete was just a lost cause from the start: the absent-minded engineer rarely talked and Merlin didn't think she'd have anything interesting to say even if she did. Renzol could be entertaining when she lost control, but there were no opportunities for that here. Merlin grinned briefly as she thought back to the ballistic encounter at the shooting range, her boredom forgotten for a moment. She had damn near pissed her pants when the rocketeer had unloaded her handgun right in front of her and Awo.

The wound she had received from Daishi wasn't serious. The carapace armor and the extra layer of alloy plating she had worn under had dampened the impact. The alloy rounds hadn't penetrated her armor, but the force had caused her side to swell with ugly bruises and she'd had a moderate amount of internal bleeding. After five days in the medbay she was looking at a discharge within the next week or so.

Merlin hated boredom. Being bored got her thinking, and thinking was the last thing she wanted to be doing right now. Daishi had come to visit her three days ago. Merlin had tried to bear with it, but she just hadn't been able to. In harsh words, she had chased the scout off. Others might forgive her, but Merlin wouldn't. She _couldn't_.

Letting out a deep sigh, Merlin let her shoulders droop. The whole situation was beyond FUBAR. She was a tough woman to bring down, but even she had her limits. And what awaited her after recovery? A room where she had to face the constant reminder of the horrific operation in Soylent. Drake and Kilroy were friends, but there was no room in their clique for her. Even though no one could see it, the loss of Foogleman may have struck Merlin the hardest. She had always seen eye-to-eye with the iron woman. Without the scout, she just felt like a third wheel in the Fembox.

_I need a fucking smoke._ The doors slid open and Kilroy and Awo stepped inside. Merlin followed their approach with sullen eyes.

"How's the recovery coming along you little minx?" Kilroy greeted her with a grin.

"Too slowly." The visitors exchanged a look at Merlin's dispirited reply.

"Who are you, and what did you do with Merlin?" Awo joked as he reached her bedside. Merlin gave him a dry look but didn't answer. For the first time, she wasn't up for the back-and-forth with the major.

A look of concern appeared in Kilroy's eyes. "What's wrong?"

Merlin closed her eyes and leaned back against her pillows. She needed to get the hell out of the medbay. "Come on, help me up," she said, swinging her legs to the ground. A sharp pain shot up her right side and she suppressed a grunt.

"Speaking from experience, you probably shouldn't move," Awo said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Fine, I'll do it myself then." Merlin rose to her feet and took a step towards the door. This time, a muffled grunt left her lips as she put weight on her right foot. Kilroy was fast on her side, offering her a shoulder. "Thanks," Merlin muttered.

"Where're we going?" Kilroy asked as the three of them started moving towards the door.

"The mess. They don't let you smoke here. Plus I'll go fucking mad if I have to stare at these walls any longer. Join me for a pack or two?"

Kilroy gave her a surprised look. "Whatever happened to 'I'll fucking kick your ass if you start smoking again?'"

Merlin let out a cynical cackle of a laugh. "There are worse things out there than lung cancer. I don't fucking care. So, how about it?"

"Nah. I'm saving it for a special occasion," Kilroy said.

Merlin turned to look at Awo, the question apparent in her eyes. The major frowned at her unusual behavior. "What happened to you, Merlin? You want to talk about it?"

The infantrywoman's slowly rising mood took a downturn at the question. Instead of answering, she shot out her hand and grabbed Awo's butt, causing him to jump in surprise. Merlin's cackling laugh filled the medbay. "I see the desk job hasn't ruined you completely! Still got a nice, firm ass!" she hollered. Awo couldn't help but smile as the old Merlin peeked through her sullen façade.

"Come on, let's get outta here before the nurses show up," Merlin said and they picked up the pace, making their way out of the medbay and towards the operative's mess.

* * *

Daishi was shaking as she stood outside the medbay. She had received the news about Wolfer after lunch. The assault had woken last night and Instinct had been the first to find out late this morning. Daishi had continued on with her daily program, pushing the issue out of mind. But now, as afternoon approached evening, she could hide from reality no longer. She would have to face him.

Daishi didn't expect forgiveness. She didn't know what she expected. But she needed closure; something to put an end to this state she was in so she could start anew again. Or go crashing down, never to recover. Either way, she needed to move forward. For better or for worse.

Pushing her head down, Daishi stepped in through the doors. She didn't want to face the people inside. The guilt and shame were choking her, making her want to hide from the world. But how could she face Wolfer if she couldn't even look the others in the eye? Drawing a shaky breath, Daishi lifted her eyes. Merlin's bed in the far right corner was empty. Renzol looked up from her novel. Daishi met her roommate's emotionless gaze. She couldn't tell what Renzol was thinking; she had been so easy to read in the early days of the conflict, but had grown more and more distant with each passing day. The rocketeer returned her attention back to her book and Daishi turned left, towards the double doors at the end of the room. Her pulse picked up with each step, her heart beating in her ears as she drew closer. Almost there now. Before she had time to hesitate, Daishi pushed in through the doors and into the white of the intensive care unit.

Wolfer looked up as the doors swung open. He was laying on a hospital cot against the back wall on the right. His eyes widened above the nasal cannula as he recognized Daishi under her bruises.

"You." Only the steady beeping of the EKG followed Wolfer's words. Daishi stood helplessly in front of the doors. She didn't know what to do. If she tried to approach him, would he yell at her? Should she just turn around and leave? Surely she couldn't just stand in the doorway. The beeping of the EKG was slowly picking up the pace.

Wringing her hands, Daishi looked down at the floor and replied meekly, "Yes. Me."

She heard Wolfer draw in breath through his nose. She recognized the habit: it was usually followed by an explosion of the big man's rage. Closing her eyes, Daishi prepared herself. _It's over._

The EKG's beeping settled down, and Wolfer let out a weary sigh. Daishi looked up to find the assault staring at his hands. Instead of anger, he wore a mask of sorrow and loneliness. "I want to hate you." Wolfer's voice was almost too low to hear, and Daishi took a step closer. "I wanted to hate you. To shout and condemn and curse. Anything to… anything to get rid of this feeling of helplessness." The man was shaking as he grabbed his blanket with both hands. Daishi took the last few steps and stood by his bedside, waiting.

Wolfer took another deep breath. Daishi was about to speak up as the silence stretched on, but it was Wolfer's trembling voice that rang through the empty ICU, "I did it! I killed him. It was me. I could've snapped the necks of those fuckers with my bare hands but I didn't. I was the last one to stop kicking. I killed him." The assault's eyes were red, but no tears rolled down his cheeks as he trembled under the weight of the confession.

"And for what?" Wolfer's head snapped to look at Daishi, his eyes burning. "For the operation. For Earth, for XCOM. Well _fuck_ the operation, fuck EXALT, fuck XCOM and Earth, _fuck them all!_ It wasn't worth it." Wolfer returned to stare at his hands, his voice dying down. "I did it. I killed him. You see Daishi, I'm the last person to pass judgment on others. I deserved it. You should've killed me out there."

Daishi fell down on the edge of the bed. Reaching out, she took Wolfer's massive hand in her own. Her cheeks were streaked wet with tears as she wept for herself, and for Wolfer.

* * *

It was well into the night, but Kilroy was still up and working. Taking another restless pace in front of the map, she wracked her brain for an answer.

The operation room of COTE was dark but for the blue holographic display on the wall and the glow of Agent Wilson's monitor. The brown-haired man took another long draught from his coffee, the lack of sleep evident by the bags under his eyes. He was the only one still working on the row of six computers. Behind him, the back wall of the rectangular room was lined with fax machines, tape recorders and other pieces of surveillance equipment. The agent looked up from his monitor at the operative pacing on the other side of the long table. "Still a few hours left on the clock, Master Sergeant. If you want some kip, I've got this."

Kilroy didn't turn away from the map of the United States that was pinned to the wall next to the glowing blue display. "Noted, agent," she replied, causing the man to roll his eyes.

The map was littered with notes, pins and lines drawn between major cities. They had been able to pinpoint EXALT's headquarters to the US. However, that wasn't saying much. The country had the fourth largest landmass on the planet, every state roughly the size of a European country. Kilroy rubbed her forehead in exasperation. They were so close she could taste it: the sweet, sweet victory over EXALT. But with each passing day, the enemy was carrying out operations against the Council nations, raiding their stores for resources and spreading lies and propaganda, dividing the populace of Earth in their direst hour. She couldn't allow it any longer. She would put an end to it, no matter the cost. And she wouldn't rest before it was done.

Three rapid beeps from behind her brought Kilroy back from her thoughts. Turning around, she looked at Wilson. The agent was no longer exhausted and disinterested. He was fully awake now, tapping away madly at his workstation. "What is it?" Kilroy asked, her heart lurching in anticipation as she began to round the long table.

"Picking up a signal… it's coming from our satellites. This is it, Sheriff!" XCOM had tried to wiretap EXALT's communications before, but all attempts had been shut down by the enemy's advanced encryption algorithms as they seemed to run their calls through an internal network. However, engineering had developed a new microchip. Its purpose was to re-route the calls made from a device to XCOM's satellite network before sending them through to the recipient. In theory, it should allow them to hook up to the terrorist organization's network. To get the chip out in the field, the Council had integrated it into the production of new, top-of-the-line smart phones and laptops as well as lower level cell phones that were a popular choice to be used as burners. The massive amount of data that would be coming in from civilian targets was cut down by using the clues and connections they had managed to establish within the US; only calls from certain regions to certain targets would be traced and an algorithm was used to weed out calls that were destined to go through normal operators. They still received an inordinate amount of junk calls and it was the agents' job to sort through it all in hopes of hitting the jackpot.

Kilroy arrived behind the agent and leaned in to look at the monitor. Raw numbers and data flew past her eyes on a terminal screen; on the main interface, information on the call was displayed. From Hartford, Connecticut to New York. A tape recorder on the back wall snapped to life and two male voices came through:

"_Hey man. Are you ready for the pickup tomorrow?"_

"_Tomorrow? I thought it was two days from now."_

"_Oh for fuck's sake. I specifically said four days."_

"_Well, shit. I'll see what I can do."_

"_You better. Can't stand the wife another day. Kids are screaming like all hell's broken loose, too. Dunno why I even came back."_

"_I'll ask the boss. But I'd be ready to pay outta my own pocket if you wanna move tomorrow. I'll be in touch."_

"_Yeah whatever."_

Kilroy turned away from the tape recorder to look at Wilson. The agent was working his keyboard furiously. "Well, what is it?" Kilroy asked, "That was fucking useless. Tell me we've got this."

Agent Wilson didn't respond as he hit the last few keys. A window on the monitor showed a program being loaded. Leaning back in his chair in wonder, the agent let out a small chuckle, reaching for his coffee with a smirk. "We're in."

With their satellite network linked to EXALT's, COTE now had unrestricted access to the enemy's databases. Wilson hit a buzzer on his desk and hurriedly spoke into the mic before delving back on his keyboard.

"Hey, hey! What do you mean? We have them?" Kilroy asked, her stomach light as she watched the agent work.

"Wait a sec," Wilson said, full-on grinning now. A few more strikes on the pad and the blue glow of the holographic display on the wall changed to red.

Kilroy rounded the table and walked up to the display. EXALT's logo, a crescent eye above the horizon of the globe, stood to the side, while various pieces of information were displayed on the left. Founding day, leader, current number of members, daughter cells… Kilroy let out a disbelieving chuckle. _Headquarters: 345 E Hamilton, Baltimore, MD, United States of America._

Stepping in front of the map, Kilroy picked up the red marker hanging from a straw. Savoring the moment, she drew a circle around Baltimore. "Gotcha," she whispered, the smile on her lips turning to a wicked grin.

The Sheriff was in town.


	68. Chapter 68: Downfall

Chapter 68: Downfall

30th of November, 2015

Baltimore, USA

Operation Stone Dirge, raid on EXALT HQ

Commanding: MAJ Awo

CAPT Medve, MSGT Kilroy, MSGT Drake, MSGT Hypergeek, MSGT Iku, GSGT Orgun, GSGT DSM, GSGT Hunterhr, SHIV FRAG-E

The interior of the Skyranger was packed full of operatives as the aircraft soared towards Baltimore. The high-tech jet had its lights turned off and its thrusters turned down to minimum. The operation relied on a smooth insertion, and breaking the sound barrier was a surefire way to ruin things from the get-go.

"ETA two mikes. This is it people. On my go you'll be pouring outta this bird's ass. Remember: you only have three seconds before the next pair follows. Don't get tangled up in the wires." Major Awo's voice carried over the steady rattling and clanging of the Skyranger. The row of eight operatives were standing in the aisle under the fluorescent lights, holding onto the cargo netting suspended from the ceiling. Closest to the stern of the ship were Kilroy and Drake. Between the two assaults, FRAG-E was tethered onto the insertion lines with a custom harness.

"I do believe the term is 'cloaca', sir. Fer a bird's arse, like," Orgun shouted from the very end of the line. The rocketeer was wearing the same uniform as the rest of them: a SWAT vest slung over carapace armor, with berets and ballistic helmets covering their heads.

Awo chuckled at the rocketeer's words. "And what would that make you, Orgun? What's the term for bird shit?"

"'White rain' me da used to call it. Had a black Caddy straight from the States he did. Twasn't a pretty sight I tell ya." Orgun's cheerful banter drew laughs from the tense operatives. Even Hunterhr next to him let out a short chuckle before settling down again.

"White rain, huh?" Awo mused on the words. Checking his watch, the major's words cut through the crowd, "ETA thirty seconds. Let's make it rain, people!"

* * *

Iku checked the target using his mounted night vision sights once again. His position was on the same level as the building housing the EXALT headquarters, giving him great access to the helipad and the façade of the offices on top of the skyscraper. He had set up a small microphone connected to his headset in the stairwell; he'd wanted to secure his back with a tripwire grenade but it was a civilian building. The Council hadn't cleared the perimeter; after all, it was EXALT's home turf and any such large-scale actions risked the stealthy approach the operation hinged on.

The disruption of the enemy's communication and surveillance systems was underway and the exterior of the enemy's base appeared to be empty. But it was only be a matter of time before EXALT would flood out of the base to greet the assaulters. It was Iku's job to secure a smooth insertion.

The sniper had opted for a silenced Scout Tactical for the operation. It didn't pack the same armor penetrating punch as the gauss long rifle or the laser sniper, but it would keep his position uncompromised. Besides, EXALT wasn't exactly renowned for their use of head protection. Not that it mattered: with a direct connection, the 7.62 NATO rounds would punch through regular kevlar helmets with ease. Helmet or no helmet, Iku would nail the shots: he was feeling calm, confident and focused. His breathing was slow and even, and the view through his sights was completely still.

The Skyranger came swooping down from the skies. Two small cylindrical containers were shot from the ship's bow, clattering across the rooftop and helipad. A wall of red smoke bloomed to cover the attack. The rear of the aircraft opened and two compound ropes squirmed their way towards the landing zone. It was go-time.

Iku switched his view to scan the rooftop of the office building.

* * *

"_Go, go, go!"_

Awo's shouting followed Kilroy out of the Skyranger as she slid down the rope next to Drake. FRAG-E was barreling towards the roof below them, suspended between the wires. Kilroy counted down three seconds in her head as she held the line with her hands and feet. Her grip wasn't tight, causing her to plummet towards the roof while friction burned at her gloves. By the time she reached zero she swung her legs out, turning the rattling impact of the high-speed landing into a somersault. The alloy SHIV's harness snapped free and the machine took off towards the helipad on the right, engines rumbling.

Drake was fast to Kilroy's side as they sprang to action. The Quick Reaction Force of the defenders was already pouring out of the double doors, dashing for the elevated helipad and the pipelines between it and the building. They were accompanied by the sound of alarm sirens; EXALT's disrupted network was late to the party.

"Sniper!" Kilroy dove behind the concrete bank of the helipad at Drake's shout. A laser cut through the air where her head had been just moments ago, leaving a blackened scorch mark on the concrete roof. Peeking upwards, she scanned for the enemy.

The laser sniper rifle clattered down the office building's side. The enemy had already disappeared behind the ledge, half of its head torn off. A second sniper steadied its weapon, looking for the assailant. His brains ended up decorating an air conditioning unit behind him. Iku was in the zone.

The sizzling of lasers and cracking of gauss weaponry filled the rooftop as the battle for the beachhead began. Medve was spraying wildly with his gauss machine gun. The gunner was standing out in the open, only partially covered by the wall of smoke as the rest of XCOM pushed up. Kilroy and Drake crawled their way towards the edge of the helipad on the right, red-hot beams of energy scorching the surface right above their heads. They waited for the call.

"Grenade out!" The assaults readied themselves at Hypergeek's shout. The engineer was crouched behind FRAG-E on top of the helipad. The carapace of the SHIV took the brunt of the enemy's fire, its superheavy laser answering with torrents of suppressive fire. The alien grenade landed in the midst of the enemy.

Drake and Kilroy were away before the explosion. Rounding the corner of the helipad, they sprinted down the side of the building. The green explosion sent the EXALT operatives stumbling as pieces of debris from the broken pipes clattered across the roof. A jet of scalding steam shot out of the pipeline, drawing a cry of agony as one of the enemy was caught in the stream, his face melting from the extreme temperature. The response was immediate. A trail of smoke from the right of the headquarters ended in a thunderous explosion around the alloy SHIV and Hypergeek. Kilroy didn't have time to spare for Hypergeek's wellbeing. She only had time to kill.

The assaults fired their shotguns on the run and one of the operatives on the helipad fell, the lasers and alloys turning him into an unrecognizable pulp. A round from Iku was followed by a storm of gunfire from the rest of the squad as they engaged the enemy. Kilroy and Drake darted past the helipad, towards the corner of the building where three more enemies remained. The lightning-fast assault caught them off-guard as a barrage of lasers flew wide of the charging sisters.

The EXALT heavy who had fired the rocket was crouched behind the low concrete edge of the roof. A blast from Drake's scatter laser sent him reeling and he cried out in pain. Kilroy fired a shot over him, forcing two more enemies back behind the corner of the building. Rushing towards the heavy, she released a cry of pure bloodlust and smashed her alloy cannon against his head. The man toppled over the edge with a muffled grunt. He recovered just in time to scream before connecting with solid ground.

The remaining two EXALT operatives knew they couldn't stay pinned down. Charging around the corner, they took the fight to the two assaults. It was a mistake. Kilroy blasted the first one, sending him sprawling against his comrade. Instead of pumping the shotgun, Kilroy swung it like a baton, crushing the injured enemy's jaw and throwing him to the ground. Drake charged forward, pinning the last enemy to the wall. She smashed hard with her head and the EXALT's nose broke with a satisfying crunch. The shock of the injury made his futile resistance even weaker. Blood dripping from her forehead, Drake swiveled around and sent the enemy stumbling towards the edge. He managed to stop the motion, only to have a swift kick in the back throw him into the abyss. Behind her, a deafening roar from Kilroy's alloy cannon finished off the wounded enemy she had on the ground, his already broken jaw disappearing in an explosion of blood and gore as the pellets connected with his face, point-blank.

Kilroy turned towards the rest of the battle. Bodies littered their end of the helipad; the pipes of the air-conditioning and heating systems were torn open, the jet of steam having died down by now. The ground was scorched black-and-green from elerium-infused fire. Part of the gray wall had been blown open by the impact. Reinforcements would no doubt be arriving soon.

"Consolidate! _Consolidate!"_ Awo's call rang over the roof, the beachhead secured for now. The entire squad was already moving fast over the helipad. Even Hypergeek was there. His armor was battered: smoking and scorched with shrapnel sticking out, the SWAT vest torn open. But he was still in one piece. FRAG-E had taken the worse of the beating. The SHIV clanged and rattled as it rumbled over the ground, its exterior completely covered in deep cuts and smoldering burns. Kilroy turned over to Drake. She didn't need to issue the order. Drake had already swung her grappling hook up and was scaling the side of the building. Kilroy followed suit; clearing the roof was essential for both pushing the assault and holding their LZ.

* * *

Awo peered through the hole in the wall. The room was luxurious: lush carpets covered the floor, expensive antique furniture formed small pockets around coffee tables and authentic art pieces hung from the walls and stood on top of mahogany dressers. The major signaled for Hunterhr to keep an eye on the sector and the medic moved to the other side of the improvised doorway.

"All set. Stand clear," Hypergeek announced and Awo pushed up against the wall next to the doors. The engineer pulled away from the double doors of the main entrance, taking cover using the pipelines to the left. Awo exchanged a look with Medve who was standing on the other side of the entrance. The huge ex-SWAT was a formidable sight with his gauss machine gun. Breaching a building full of criminals, _terrorists_; it was like old times for the two former law enforcers.

"Breaching!" Hypergeek smacked the detonator in three sharp taps and the doors blew inside with a sharp crunch and supersonic snap. They came clattering down on both sides of the red carpet that spanned the length of the long hall. Awo stepped out and steadied his gauss rifle against the doorframe. Three skylights in the ceiling gave sight into the night sky of the city; at the end of the room, doors on both sides led into the interior of the complex. Hunterhr already had eyes on the right, so Awo focused his attention on the left. In the middle of the hallway a bizarre black art piece stood on a large stone pedestal. Not exactly the locale of your everyday abduction.

_Some sort of decahedron,_ Awo thought as the door on the left swung open. An EXALT operative dashed into the hallway. Awo's senses sharpened as adrenaline swarmed his receptors. He sent a burst wide of the enemy but Medve didn't. The enemy was tossed to the ground as a flurry of alloy rounds went right through his dapper suit.

Awo's MELD-infused pupils reacted to the miss, and the image of the doorway grew sharper. An EXALT operative peeked through the door. It was merely an attempt to gain intel; nothing more than a quick glance. Awo's rifle snapped on target. A well-placed round barreled through the hapless man's head, throwing him to the floor with a red hole between his eyes, the back of his skull blown open. The major caught sight of movement through the open door. "Rocket the shit out of that door on the left!" Awo shouted the order. His blood was up as the intensity of the battle took him over.

"Aye-aye!" Orgun responded eagerly. The alloy SHIV parked itself some distance away of the main entrance and the rocketeer dashed behind the scorched and battered machine. His rocket launcher was out in no time and the Irishman slammed in an HE warhead.

"Knock-a-dolly!" Orgun shouted merrily and the launcher thumped. The rocket swooshed past the officers and across the main hallway. The explosion fucked up the door, and the EXALT hiding on the other side. Medve and Awo fired blindly through the debris and smoke, gunning down the enemy.

"Contact right!" Hunterhr yelled. He sent a burst towards the two enemies wielding laser rifles. He failed to find his mark, instead shattering an expensive vase and tearing down what looked like a Monet from the 1800s. The enemy took position behind a decorated couch and prepared to answer.

The first one's throat opened up in a bloody gash. The second one was struck in the chest, sending him flying on his back. The man struggled back to his feet, his eyes disbelieving as the red stain spread on his white dress shirt. The second round from Iku showed a return to form, rupturing open the EXALT's skull.

"Congo, Sitrep!" Awo roared over the gunfire as he pulled back to reload.

"Two enemy dead, all ok," Hunterhr replied matter-of-factly.

"Good fucking job!" the major yelled before stepping back into the doorway, oblivious to Iku's contribution. Hunterhr didn't feel the need to correct him. The sniper would get all the glory he deserved if— _when_ they made it through this.

* * *

With the help of DSM, Kilroy and Drake had seized the roof. As the enemy had begun pushing into the main hallway, another contingent of EXALT operatives had led a counterattack for the roof on the left. Given free reign, they would've ousted XCOM's main base of fire from the entrance.

Kilroy rolled over the last enemy to make sure he was dead. The tingling sensation on her genetically modified skin would last for a while longer; while the enemy was undoubtedly dead, their bodies would still twitch for a short time before their nerves stopped firing.

With a little help from the ground team and Iku's marksmanship, they had established a deadly crossfire for the enemy. EXALT hadn't been aware of the XCOM troops on the roof; what had supposed to have been an easy flank and counterattack for EXALT had turned into a bloodbath. Their headquarters was quickly running out of defenders.

Kilroy looked towards Drake. The assault was down on her knees, her hands pressed against the cold roof. She could _feel_ she was roughly above an enemy pod. The distance to the floor below was just on the edge of the bioelectric signal range, and the Indian woman was speaking into her headset as she provided Awo with battlefield intelligence on the enemy's position. DSM was standing ready behind one of the huge pipes that ran all over the roof, covering Drake.

Skylights filled the middle portion of the antechamber; near their breaching point, the roof was considerably lower over the main hallway. Their mission was to gather intel now that the perimeter was secure, but Kilroy stuck close to the skylights of the entrance hall. Should the enemy muster up an assault, it would be an ideal position to apply accurate fire from.

As if answering her thoughts, the sounds of gunfire from below intensified, followed by an explosion. Kilroy jumped up to her feet and sprinted towards the lower roof, leaping down the two meter drop. The glass of the skylights had been shattered in the heat of the battle and Kilroy dashed up to the metal frame of the one closest to her.

Dense smoke covered the hallway towards the main entrance. Bullets chipped out splinters and debris from the walls as Awo and his squad fired blindly through the smoke. Kilroy saw four EXALT operatives charging forwards, two of them wearing alloy vests and holding laser rifles. Behind them, a fifth one stood in support behind a black geometrical statue. His slicked back hair had streaks of gray to it and in his hand he held an alien grenade. Kilroy stood up and aimed down at the elite operative. _Sweet fucking dreams,_ she thought and squeezed the trigger.

Kilroy wasn't the only genetically modified soldier on the field. The enemy's reactions were inhuman as he spun around, hitting the deck just in time to dive under the rain of alloys. The laser rifle appeared in his hands, like a magic trick. It was a huge weapon; a true battle rifle.

Kilroy screamed in agony as the laser cut through her carapace armor like butter. Stumbling back from the skylight, her right hand shot out to apply pressure to the smoldering hole in her shoulder. Crashing down against the wall behind her, she stared at her alloy cannon, disbelieving. She _never_ let go of her weapon. Now, it lay next to the skylight, abandoned.

Gritting her teeth, Kilroy pulled her hand away from the wound. If the enemy was half as good as she thought he was, now was her time to strike. Kilroy bit through pain as she pushed herself up, a low growl building in her throat. Scrambling forward, she dove for her weapon. Grabbing the alloy cannon and checking her load, she regained eyes on the hallway.

Just as she'd thought, the elite operative had focused on supporting the assault pushing Awo's position. He had recovered the grenade and just as Kilroy laid eyes on him, he pulled the pin. The alloy cannon roared and the EXALT's head came clean off, painting the black art piece red. Falling down on the roof, Kilroy braced herself.

The explosion shook her through the ceiling, green fire illuminating the bent frame of the skylight. She had managed to stop him; Medve and Awo should have no problems cleaning up the rest of the push in the hallway.

Kilroy let her eyes wander to the night sky as the gunfire intensified below her. The lights of the city ensured not a single star was in sight. _What a waste of a view, _she thought as her shoulder throbbed with searing agony.

"Kilroy! You hit?" Drake's shout was full of concern as she came jumping down from the roof above. Kilroy didn't feel like raising her voice over the gunfire. The Indian assault crashed down on her knees next to her. "This is bad," she said as she laid eyes on her injury.

Kilroy shot out her healthy arm to grab Drake's wrist as she prepared to call for medical assistance. "Let them fight," she groaned through the pain before falling back down.

"Screw that," Drake said. Pulling her hand from Kilroy's grasp, she bypassed Awo and called straight for Hunterhr.

The battle wound to a halt soon after. Hunterhr scaled the roof with haste and made it to Kilroy's side. The assault gritted her teeth as the pain burst aflame again when Drake lifted her so the medic could examine her. Resting her head against her sister's lap, she groaned through the painful inspection.

"The beam cut right through. It's cauterized. You should sit the rest of this out, Master Sergeant," Hunterhr laid down the facts for Kilroy.

"Bullshit," Kilroy managed before gasping in pain as Hunterhr removed a blackened piece of alloy from the edge of the wound. "Patch me up. Give me all the drugs in the world if that's what it takes. I'm taking these fuckers out."

"Yessir." Hunterhr pulled a leather strap from his medical bag and placed it between Kilroy's teeth. He gave her an initial dose of morphine before cleaning the worst of the wound. Kilroy struggled in Drake's arms, eyes rolling back in her sockets as Hunterhr dug out the pieces of carapace armor that had stuck to her flesh. Finally, the agonizing part was over and the medic sprayed the wound with medicinal foam followed by an injection of numbing drugs right into the flesh. He finished it off with bandages.

"Don't get hit there again. I cannot patch the armor."

Kilroy gave him a dry look. Her brow was glimmering with sweat as she spat the strap from her mouth. "Duly noted, Doctor Smartass." Her dry words elicited a high-pitched laugh from Drake. "Come on, help me up."

Hunterhr pulled her back to her feet. Kilroy could still move her arm, but her shoulder wouldn't budge. Stripping off her ammo bandolier, she offered it to Drake. "Make good use of her," she said as her sister bent over to pick up the alloy cannon.

"Don't worry," Drake replied sunnily as she accepted the belt, "We both know I should've had it from the start. The stats don't lie."

Kilroy gave an unimpressed snort at the words. She knew very well that Drake numbered a good dozen confirmed kills over her. She also happened to know that Drake didn't actually give a rat's ass about the statistics. "Come on, let's fuckin' do this," Kilroy said and slapped Drake in the arm.

Drake contacted the squad leader: "Awo—Kilroy's back on her feet. She's still in this."

Kilroy pulled her sidearm; the gauss autopistol was a formidable little beast of a weapon. In a way, it was the finest work of XCOM's line of gauss weaponry. Fitting an elerium-powered magnetic accelerator into a weapon the size of a micro-uzi was an impressive feat of engineering indeed.

Kilroy started towards the right with Hunterhr while Drake took the left with DSM. Moving methodically along both sides they felt for the presence of enemies inside the building, avoiding the skylights in the middle. It was only at the very end of the headquarters where Kilroy's palm tingled. Six contacts on the stairway connecting the elevated walkway on the right with the lowered lobby of the main offices. Kilroy looked up to meet Drake's eyes across the roof. She read her easily; the left was clear. Giving the hand signal, Kilroy summoned the rest of the squad to her.

"Set the ropes," Kilroy whispered to Drake. Turning to DSM, she found the scout already holding the small rectangular device with a neon green biohazard sign stamped to the side. Kilroy nodded and the scout went for the air conditioning unit connected to the back of the building.

They were ready.

* * *

"_Do you have an angle?"_

Iku inspected the site through his sights. The hole blown into the right side of the outer wall gave him view through the lavishly decorated room and into the doorway where Hypergeek was setting the charges. They would be blowing up not only the door but also a good chunk of the rest of the wall. He had eyes on, but the lobby behind that door was on a much lower level. Iku wasn't convinced.

"I'm not…wait a second," Iku told Awo to wait as he realized the solution. Turning around, he inspected the entrance to the roof. It was a box with a door on the front, about two meters high with just enough space on top. With years of training and sniper's intuition, he evaluated the angle across the distance. It was perfect.

Iku took his rifle with him. There was a little outcropping behind the entrance and he boosted himself up with ease. Scurrying to his new position, Iku spread his legs out. The top was just a little too short, leaving his boots hanging over the edge. Adopting his position to best suit the environment, Iku looked through the scope. He could just see under the rim of the opening in the outermost wall. Only the top third of the door where Hypergeek was working was concealed from this angle.

"Dumpling, Emo. I'm in position. Stand clear of the middle of the breach. I'll leave one meter on either side for you to work with. How copy?"

"_Copy that Emo. Dumpling out."_

Iku took a deep breath. The sniper rifle was nestled firmly against his shoulder, his hold on the weapon unwavering.

* * *

"Why's it so quiet? Did we beat them back?" The EXALT operative fiddled nervously with his laser rifle. Their squad had just arrived from the lower level of the base where they had escorted all of the non-combat personnel. The red glow of the hologlobe that sat above them on its high plateau was the same it had always been, yet the shapes it cast on the walls were ominous and eerie now.

"Shut up! I need to think," the squad leader ordered. He was a huge man, carrying a laser machine gun in his hands and a rocket launcher on his back. His bald head was jagged and chiseled, his skin beginning to exhibit the hardened scales of their most invasive genetic modification programs.

They couldn't keep standing here at the back of the lobby. Essentially, there were two choices. Take up position and wait it out, or try to push forward for information. _There is a third one: run for the door as fast as you can._ The man pushed the thought out of his mind. There was no way. The enemy had to have been weakened by the defense; hell, maybe they _had_ been beaten back.

A cough brought the huge EXALT back from his thoughts. It was followed by two more and as he opened his mouth to order his squad to shut the fuck up, he felt his throat tighten. Flakes of dark green substance quickly spread throughout the air. The acid funneled in through the vents in the ceiling, sinking ever faster towards the ground.

"Gas gas gas!" One of the soldiers cried out, only to double over in pain as he ended up inhaling more of the acid that had now descended upon them. The alien toxins burned their skin, eyes and lungs as the panic began to spread, the sporadic coughs turning into a cacophony of hacking and choking. None of them noticed the four shadows rappelling down the side of the tall windows behind them.

"Order! Fucking listen—" The leader was cut short as the room was filled with deafening gunfire. The windows behind them shattered as alloy and glass rained down on them. One soldier fell instantly, somersaulting over the railing of the stairway from the impact of the alloy cannon. The rest covered their heads as they scrambled for cover behind the row of desks one aisle below, their bodies torn by rapidly firing gauss weapons.

The wall next to the hologlobe exploded inwards. Debris rained over the EXALT, sending monitors and office equipment clattering across the floor. The resulting crossfire was deadly: with nowhere to hide, they fell one by one. The frantic cracking of the gauss machine guns chewed through the desks and an operative spun around, falling down on a collapsed table. Successive taps from a sniper rifle cracked one head, then another, and sprays of blood filled the air. Their screams could barely be heard over the incessant, one-sided firefight. One operative had tried to run up the stairs on the left; as soon as he reached the walkway on the side of the building, he was thrown back down the stairway by the high impact of automatic gunfire.

The grit kicked up by the explosion slowly died down, and the green acid began to settle. Six mangled bodies covered the devastated combat zone. The last of the defenders were dead.

* * *

"XCOM! Consolidate, consolidate! Secure the perimeter! Drake, scout the rest of this complex out. Take DSM. I want a sitrep in five." Awo commanded as he strode in through the collapsed wall. He stopped at the head of the stairs leading down to the lobby; on his left, a luxurious chair with a huge backrest stood before the hologlobe. Drake and DSM took off deeper into the base; a doorway at the back of the building led into the personnel's quarters.

Slow clapping broke the chain of orders the major was giving out. Awo snapped to his left, gauss rifle raised. Medve was quick to his side, machine gun ready.

"Bravo,_ XCOM_. Wonderfully done." The voice was a dry rasp, emanating from the depths of the massive chair. Awo couldn't see anyone; the carved wooden sides of the chair hid the man from his eyes, and the hologlobe covered him from the front.

The two officers approached the chair carefully. Stepping between the glowing red hologram and the armchair, they laid eyes on an old man sunken deep into the crimson velvet cushioning. Calling the piece of furniture an armchair was doing it a disservice; it was a throne.

The man smirked at the raised guns. Raising his arms, he let out a chuckle. Was it amusement in his voice? Or contempt? Maybe it was both. The man was old but healthy. His full body of silvery hair was neatly combed, and though his face was riddled with wrinkles and crevices, the skin wasn't dry, nor thin. His eyes were the lightest of cool blue; they were eyes that had seen everything mankind had to offer. He was wearing a simple white dress shirt and black trousers. A human skull stood on a pedestal next to the chair, no doubt an artifact of immense historical value to EXALT.

The man lowered his hands and Awo nearly squeezed the trigger. "No need for that," the EXALT leader said, definitely amused this time, "I'm not armed. Why would I be? If thirty of our finest operatives cannot stop you, what chance could I possibly have?" He looked from Medve to Awo. Settling on the major, he continued his monologue, "You're in charge here? That was quite the display indeed. An excessive use of force perhaps, but then again I shouldn't expect any leniency now should I?"

The EXALT leader reached up a hand and brushed back his puffy hair. This time, Awo took a step closer, gesturing aggressively with his rifle. "Try that again and you're a dead man."

Lowering his hand slowly, the old man smiled mysteriously at the major. "You won't kill me. No doubt you'll want to take me to your psionic interrogation chambers. I can tell you right now that it won't work. I'll be dead long before you sink your psionic tendrils into me." Awo and Medve exchanged a quick glance at his words. He let out a dry, triumphant exclamation at the exchange. "So you _did_ unlock the human mind after all! My greatest failure, only to be outdone by my enemies… Then again, I suppose I should be happy. At least the power will live on with mankind, even if I wasn't the one to bestow this gift upon us."

Kilroy arrived at the scene, coming to a halt next to Awo. She regarded the man in the chair warily as he turned to inspect her. "Ah! Sheriff, I presume?" He eyed the red bandages on her shoulder. "Looks like we almost got you this time. A pity. I would've enjoyed knowing you died. How an entire organization can fail to kill one woman… I'm surrounded by incompetent fools. _Was_."

Kilroy turned to look at Awo. Her voice was irritated as she asked, "Who the fuck is this guy?"

The EXALT leader let out a dry cackle in amusement. "Stay a while, Sheriff. Let's have a chat in the ruins of my temple."

"Temple?" Kilroy's voice was full of disbelief.

"Humor me."

"I'm not interested."

"Oh please, don't be like that. Very well then, I shall do the talking. EXALT is—" The man was cut short by an explosion of rapid cracking. Drops of blood and feathers danced in the air as his body spasmed violently under the gunfire. He was an indistinguishable mess by the time the building was quiet again.

Kilroy stood before the chair with a smoking gauss autopistol in hand. The weapon was light in her grasp, the magazine fully spent. "I said: I'm not fucking interested." Kilroy's words rang cold in the silence.

Awo's eyes were wide open as he shook in fury. "What the _fuck_!" he roared at Kilroy.

"It's done, Awo." Kilroy holstered her machine pistol.

Adrenaline pumped through Awo, sticking to his synapses and turning the world red as he boomed, "What the _FUCK_, Master Sergeant! Who gave you permission to discharge your firearm on the prisoner!? _WHO GAVE YOU PERMISSION!_?"

Kilroy gave her former roommate a disinterested look. The major's face was twisted in anger, his face burning red. Turning away from him, Kilroy started towards the exit.

"Don't you walk away from me, Master Sergeant! Don't you fucking _dare_ walk away from me!" Kilroy continued towards the front of the building, giving him the finger over her shoulder. Awo shook in his boots, absolutely seething with anger. His eyes bulged as the adrenaline refused to let him go.

"Easy, Major," Medve said, placing a firm hand across Awo's chest. The gunner was almost a head taller than Awo, and the major strained his neck to look over his shoulder at Kilroy's departing back. "It's Kilroy, Major. Kilroy."

Awo drew in breath through his nose. His face was twisted in rage as he looked Medve in the eye, "That fucking undisciplined… defying at every step… I'm her superior officer!"

"I know, Major. I know. But it's Kilroy, okay? Let's not do or say something we're going to have to follow up on and regret later. It's Kilroy, Major." Awo's breathing steadied at Medve's calm words. Chills ran over him as the fury finally subsided, making him shake.

"Fine," Awo agreed and shoved Medve away from him. The gunner let him do it, taking a step backwards. Awo laid eyes on the bloody mess in the armchair. "Jesus fuck," he cursed, lifting his hand helplessly before letting it fall back down.

* * *

Kilroy stepped out into the cool November night. Her face tingled in the places where the EXALT leader's blood had landed: above her right eyebrow, on her forehead, a line of three drops on her left cheek. One of them had been a big one, trailing a short distance down her face. Another had landed on the right side of her upper lip, filling her mouth with the taste of iron.

She walked past the helipad and reached the edge of the building. The lights of the city stretched on all around her. She spotted several Christmas decorations, shining brightly in red-and-green. That's right. It was almost December. She felt bizarre in the moment of victory, the enormity of it all not quite sunken in yet. She had been involved in countless hostage rescues during her time with the HRT. In a way, this had been similar. Except EXALT had held the entirety of the world's population in its grasp of terror. They were free now. Well, from EXALT at least.

Kilroy dug a pack of cigarettes from her vest. She flicked the pack open and quickly tapped it up and down, making one of the cigarettes stick out. She brought it to her lips, sticking the butt right where the blood tingled her lips. Swapping the pack for a lighter, she carried out the ritual with one hand; her left shoulder was numb, the pain medication making her slightly light-headed.

A flame lit up in the night, and Kilroy inhaled deep. The burning hot smoke filled her lungs, satiating her nicotine-deprived synapses. She hadn't smoked since her R&amp;R, and it made her head feel even lighter. This was the feeling: something you can only get after a long break from smoking. Kilroy swooned on her feet, savoring the moment.

The lights of the city disappeared as Kilroy closed her eyes. Taking another long drag, she let the smoke out. A smile crept to her lips. _It's done._ An uncharacteristic giggle escaped her lips as she bent over, laughing quietly. Taking in a deep breath of fresh air, she let it all out.

"_Fuuuuck youuuu EEEEEX-AAAAALT!_" The shout echoed off the buildings around her, followed by a wild burst of laughter. Kilroy took a third drag, burning out the rest of the cigarette. Looking towards the sky she released the smoke, watching it disperse into the night. Tossing the butt off the building, she reached for another one, content.

It was finally done.


	69. Chapter 69: Strength and Salvation

Chapter 69: Strength and Salvation

5th of December, 2015

XCOM Asia HQ, Auditorium

The rising rows of seats in the auditorium were filled with XCOM operatives. Down in the front of the hall behind a long desk, Doctor Vahlen and Chief Engineer Shen were giving a presentation on the MEC augmentation program. The presence of both the leaders of research and engineering was a huge sign of respect for the ground forces.

Major Awo stood some distance to the side, hands behind his back as he inspected the faces of his fellow soldiers. He had gone to battle with almost every last one of them. They had put their lives on the line for his as he had for theirs. Soon, some of them would be mere man no more.

Cybernetic augmentation was above and beyond anything mankind had done before. Prosthetics that allowed veterans and amputees to walk again by converting muscle movement to electric signals paled in comparison. A complete, four limb amputation would be followed by the grafting of a cybernetic interface onto the volunteer's bone structure, directly linking their central nervous system to the machinery. The cybernetic augments weren't just an extension to the body; they _were_ the body, fully under the MEC trooper's control. Moving one's arms and legs would be as simple as it had always been, even when wearing the heavily armored exoskeletons. Weaponry and tactical systems would be readily within one's disposal: using a flamethrower would require the same effort as lifting a finger. It wouldn't simply be a weapon anymore; it would be an extension of will.

Adjusting would take its time to be sure. Mastering the Mechanized Exoskeletal Cybersuit would require intensive and continuous training, leaving the old training programs and drills behind. The volunteer's life would forever change. Indeed, they could walk and function almost exactly like before, but the power didn't come without a cost: Phantom pains. Possible depression and chronic insomnia. Muscle atrophy. The distant chance of rejection syndrome. There were lesser factors to consider as well: The inability to exercise one's arm and leg muscles. Finding clothes that fit. Returning to civilian life and finding the warm embrace of another human being. Lesser factors.

But it would all be worth it. A weapons platform of living metal that breathed elerium-infused fire, raining death and destruction upon the enemy. Armor plating thick enough to provide battlefield cover for organic troops. Weapons systems that were designed to be crew-mounted were already being developed to retrofit the new chassis: a railgun capable of accelerating large alloy slugs through two feet of armor plating at ten times the speed of sound, a flamethrower spitting jellied elerium, a power fist utilizing extreme kinetic energy to crush enemies, specialized high explosive ordinance delivery systems, the list stretched on. The sheer amount of firepower and versatility such a trooper would bring to the battlefield… the sacrifice _would_ be worth it.

The mechanically technical part of the slideshow came to an end and Chief Engineer Shen stepped aside. "Take it away, Doctor."

Vahlen gave him a courteous nod before turning to look at the crowd. "We all know this is a lot to ask of you. Everyone in the ground forces has already given so much on the battlefield. But this could really be the turning point, the final edge we need to secure a free Earth. No one should feel forced to volunteer. However, if you are willing to make this decision, this… utmost of sacrifices, you should go through Captain Scubaman. He will take your case to the commander and the augmentation team." Scubaman was sitting laid back in a chair behind Awo. At his mention, the Latino graced the crowd with a smile and a casual wave. Doctor Vahlen continued, "Ultimately, it will be the commander's decision on who will be accepted into the augmentation program based on each individual's…" Vahlen's voice trailed off for a moment, the slightest glimmer of distress in her eyes.

Awo noticed the hesitation and stepped in, "I believe 'strategic value' is the term you're looking for, Doctor."

The look she gave Awo was both grateful and somewhat sad. "Thank you, Major. Yes, the decision will be based on your strategic value."

There was another pause. This time, it was broken by a voice carrying over from the back of the auditorium, "I'll do it."

Renzol was rising out of her seat in the back row. The rocketeer's wounded arm was supported by a medical sling. Her face was solemn, but a deep fervor burned within her eyes.

"Order, Master Sergeant," Awo commanded.

"It's quite alright, Major," Vahlen said before turning her attention to Renzol, "I can appreciate your sentiment, Master Sergeant…?" She let the question hang in the air.

"Renzol, Doctor."

"Master Sergeant Renzol. I see you are wounded. May I ask how much longer will you be under medical care?"

"Around two weeks, Doctor."

"I see," Doctor Vahlen nodded as she thought about the situation. "I will tell Doctor Stamford to pay you a visit at five o'clock. You can think about it until then. Is that alright with you, Master Sergeant?"

"Yes, Doctor. Thank you, Doctor." Renzol seated herself. Her movements were rigid as an iron bar.

"I believe that is all. Major," Vahlen conceded the stage to Awo with a nod.

The major stepped forward. "You heard the Doctors, people. By the commander's orders, officers and soldiers assigned to the psionic training program are ineligible for MEC trooper augmentation. Take a good, hard look at yourself before you volunteer. Anyone who takes this lightly will have their asses personally handed to themselves by me. That is all, XCOM. Dismissed!"

Seats slapped against their backrests as the operatives rose in unison, streaming towards the door in the back. Renzol was amongst the first ones out, stepping into the brightly lit corridors of the training center. Her left arm was starting to hurt again; the entirety of the lecture had taken well over two hours. Her journey back to the medbay was brought to a halt by a voice calling after her.

"Renzol, wait!" She turned around to find Hunterhr making his way to her through the crowd. She had barely spoken to him after the night of the calendar party, and each brief time it had been on official business. Renzol eyed the approaching medic warily.

Hunterhr's distraught was apparent as he came to a halt before her. "What was that, Renzol?"

"I'm volunteering." Her curt response left Hunterhr feeling helpless.

"But… how can you say that so easily? Think about what you are doing here, Renzol. Things will never be the same again. Your body, your mind, your entire life…"

Renzol's anger flared at his words. "You think I haven't thought about this? The rumors have been going around for weeks."

"Yes, but…" Hunterhr let out a sigh of exasperation. She wasn't giving him anything. "What is going on with you? I don't understand."

The anger came to her easily, and Renzol embraced it. "Understand? That's right Hunterhr, you _don't_ understand me, you don't _know _me." Renzol turned away from him. She was stopped by Hunterhr grabbing her arm.

"Let. Me. _Go_." Renzol yanked herself free, and Hunterhr let her go. He was left standing alone next to the stream of operatives, staring helplessly after her.

* * *

Wolfer listened to Daishi's voice absentmindedly. Whenever the scout visited him during the evenings, she seemed to be doing most of the talking. Not that Wolfer minded; he thought her voice was beautiful. Beautiful and lonely. He enjoyed simply lying in bed, listening to her talk. Her teenage ambitions in singing and the gigs she'd played with her band, small talk about the outfits she'd served in, what was for dinner yesterday... Wolfer enjoyed the stories but more so than anything he appreciated the company.

Daishi stopped to draw breath, her story on a particularly nice restaurant in Ottawa coming to a brief halt. She wasn't expecting Wolfer to cut in. "I'm going. To the augmentation surgery." Daishi was taken aback by his sudden words, and was left staring at him with her mouth slightly open as he continued, "My legs… the doctor said I might never walk again. And even if I did, the recovery would take months. So I'm going."

The medbay was silent. Daishi kept staring at Wolfer, her lip trembling slightly as the words sank in. Paralyzed. Because of her. Daishi's expression was mournful as she looked at Wolfer, tears building in her eyes.

_Fucking hell, _Wolfer thought as he brought a hand up to rub his eyes. He hadn't meant to break the news like that. Silently, he cursed himself for being so blunt.

"Then I'm coming with you." Wolfer looked up at Daishi's words. The desolation in her eyes had been replaced with determination as she bit back her tears.

Wolfer shook his head in refusal. "Daishi, listen. I don't hold a grudge. There's no need to feel guilty."

Daishi's voice cracked as she took Wolfer's massive paw in her slender hands. "Is that so? So I should just perk up and carry on like nothing happened?"

"Daishi…" Wolfer's words died down. He had nothing to say to that.

"We both know how it feels, Wolfer," Daishi said, making eye contact, "The guilt. It never lets you go. I'm not the same person I was a month ago. _You're _not the same person you were before that op. It's a part of us now, forever, whether we like it or not. We need to be able to live with ourselves. It's the only way we can survive."

Wolfer hesitated. He couldn't deny her words. But still… she deserved better. "Don't do this. Not because of me."

Daishi spoke through a sniffle, "I'm not doing this just because you are. I've considered it all day. You just gave me the final reason to commit."

"I can't talk you out of it?"

A weak smile returned to Daishi's face as she shook her head. "Nuh-uh. I'm going. _We're_ going. Together."

Wolfer leaned back and smiled affectionately at Daishi, his anxiety ebbing away. "I could sure use the company," he said, drawing a heartfelt laugh from her. She leaned in and took him in a warm embrace, landing a friendly kiss on his cheek.

"So then, what in being a murder-bot do you most look forward to?" Daishi's light-hearted question made Wolfer lift his eyebrows in surprise. "Hey, don't give me that look! I can talk tough too! I've been picking up a few pointers from Cell."

The two of them shared a laugh at that, the darkness of the uncertain future lifted for a moment.

* * *

"So you're really gonna do this, huh?"

Cell stood next to Renzol's bed in the medbay. The day had deepened into the evening before she had come to visit her friend. The rocketeer was sitting on the edge of her hospital cot, her small body already showing the effects of long weeks of bedrest as her naturally weak arms had begun losing muscle mass. In stark contrast, Cell was a tall woman at the peak of her physique. You could never tell it from their appearance, but Renzol was the older of them by two weeks, having been born late in December of 1989.

Renzol looked thoughtful as she answered, "Yeah. I am."

Cell chewed with her teeth pensively, an imaginary cigar stump wiggling in the corner of her mouth. "Well I can't really say I'm surprised. If there was one hard-ass bitch I'd expected to be the first to do this, it'd be you." Renzol gave her an amused look, and Cell responded with a grin. "To be honest, I thought about it too. Just can't bring myself to do it. Maybe I'll grow a pair like you someday!"

"Are you thinking about your daughter?"

Cell grimaced at the rocketeer's words, bringing up a hand to tighten her ponytail. They hadn't talked about it since the day she'd wept against Renzol's shoulder in the operative's mess. The weight and seriousness in Renzol's abrupt question hit her like a sack of bricks. But she couldn't fault her; these were some very grave matters after all. Cell gave her ponytail a frustrated tussle.

"Yeah. I can't help but hope. But coming back to her as a motherfucking robot… I couldn't do it. It's all too much to think about. I just… I can't think about it."

Renzol responded with a nod as Cell's words faded away. The silence stretched on before Cell raised her voice, trying to lighten up the mood. "Speaking of robots! Miss Robo-Renzol, huh? Didn't I say something about this a while back? Turns out you _are_ the Terminator after all!"

Renzol chuckled at the jest, shaking her head in amusement. "It's cybernetic augmentation. Not robotization."

Cell dismissed her with a snort. "Augments, robots… close enough. You'll be rolling out there with FRAG-E in no time, kickin' ass and taking names, as our dear friend Crash would put it!"

This time, Renzol laughed out loud. "You're insane, you know that?"

"Yeah, I know. You legally have to be to sign up for this outfit," Cell smiled down at her. She hadn't seen Renzol in such a good mood in ages. Cell had caught her exchange with Hunterhr from a distance earlier today. She knew something had been up with her for a while now, but Renzol never talked about it.

"Hey…" Cell's voice was uncharacteristically meek and quiet as she called out to her friend. Renzol looked up at her inquisitively. "Are you really sure about this Renzol? Is this what you want?"

Renzol shook her head. "It's not that I want this, Cell. I _need_ this. _We _need this."

The rocketeer's voice was heavy with tenacity, making Cell smile wistfully. Her next action took Renzol by surprise as she swooped down to embrace her. "Give 'em hell, Renzol," Cell whispered as she closed her eyes, holding onto her friend tightly.

Renzol's surprised expression deflated slowly. With a smile, she wrapped her healthy arm around Cell. "I will, Cell. I will."

* * *

7th of December, 2015

Scheduled amputations,

XCOM Asia HQ, Cybernetic Augmentation Complex

The cybernetic augmentations began early in the morning. It was a long day with three volunteers to handle, each surgery estimated to take eight hours. The surgeons had never handled an amputation procedure of this scale before, and the augmentation team had only worked with animal models and countless simulated experiments. Now, today was the real deal, and Master Sergeant Renzol was the first one to enter.

Renzol lied down in her gurney in the small pre-op room adjacent to the cybernetics laboratory, located in the deepest depths of the underground base. It was a simple room, with only a white clock high on the opposite wall, a stainless steel medical table loaded with supplies next to her and two empty gurneys standing in the corner. The walls were unfinished; instead of the familiar white of the medbay, they were rough concrete and brushed metal like the corridors of the headquarters. It was but a temporary resting place between the rest of the base and the cybernetics lab. A purgatory between lives of flesh and metal.

Renzol's left arm had been stripped clean of the sling and bandages; there was no need for them anymore. Instead, black lines circled her shoulders and hips where the surgeons would cut away her body. Renzol couldn't bear to look at them; she could still feel the cold touch on her skin as the doctor had marked her for surgery.

Renzol had been preparing herself by meditation between the physical tests and psychological evaluations but as the moment drew closer, she had begun feeling the apprehension rising steadily in the pit of her stomach. Renzol closed her eyes and attempted to calm herself, but she couldn't ease the beating of her heart, the strong muscle pumping blood through her arms and legs.

The doors to the cybernetics lab slid open to admit a nurse. Renzol followed his approach with unease. She closed her eyes and grabbed her short patient's gown, twisting hard. She blamed the negative emotions on the fasting she had done for the surgery, leaving her body weak and nauseous. She didn't open her eyes as she heard the nurse rustle with the raised backrest of her gurney.

"Let me just lower this… here we go. Anything I can help you with before the surgery?" Renzol shook her head. She didn't dare speak. The anxiety was choking her, and she feared opening her mouth would only cause a wave of dry heaving. She twisted her gown harder. Her knuckles were white and painful and a dull aching radiated down her wounded arm. There was another rustle from the foot of her gurney as the nurse scribbled something down in the patient log.

The wait up till now had been long and arduous, but as the time of the surgery was at hand the minutes seemed to stretch on for eternity. _This is for the best. This is necessary._ _This is what I need. _The mantra let Renzol calm down somewhat. Once more she tried to summon The Box to her, but it was hopeless. She couldn't focus enough as the dread consumed her from inside. She was at the mercy of her emotions, and all she could do was wait.

The nurse rounded her and the gurney jerked as he disengaged the brake. Renzol's breathing became frantic and her eyes flew open. There was a glimmer of panic in her eyes as she began pushing herself up. Calming hands landed on her shoulders. "Thank you for doing this." The nurse's voice was a soft whisper. Renzol shivered as the panic subsided and she laid herself back down. The words gave her strength. _This is necessary._

The doors to the cybernetics lab slid open as the nurse guided Renzol through. She was calmer now, and the mantra gave her focus. _This is for the best._ Renzol clenched her hand into a fist and raised it for inspection. _This is necessary._ Soon, she would be transformed. The power to protect others; both the people of the Earth and her comrades. _This is what I need._ She would finally be the person she needed to be.

Renzol was pushed through surgical drapes and into the sterile field. Orderly rows of stainless steel medical tables full of equipment filled the space. Amongst them were foreign looking metal parts and a grafting gun, its capsule glowing with the mysterious orange of MELD. They would be used to create the base of the cybernetic interface. The sight of the amputation saws made Renzol's nausea rise up again. She swallowed frantically before turning her attention to the surgical team. At least a dozen surgeons in scrubs circled the empty space surrounded by medical tables. Renzol's gurney came to a halt in the middle of them and the nurse placed his hand on her shoulder once more, letting the touch linger for a moment before he retreated back through the drapes.

Renzol turned her head to avoid the blinding surgical lights. On her left, the sterile field continued to include the cybernetic cradle. A conveyor belt connected the outside platform into the cylindrical interior. Rows of lights sparkled within the machine. The sight was almost hypnotic. Inside, the intricacies of the cybernetic interface would be grafted onto her body. Human hands operating a machine as they turned Renzol into an amalgam of both. She found solace in the thought, her apprehension forgotten.

"Thank you, Renzol. This must be very hard for you. The entire medical staff is incredibly thankful for what you are doing." Renzol looked up at the words. Several faces in surgical masks looked down at her, blotting out the lights above. She couldn't be sure which doctor had spoken. She acknowledged them with a nod before turning back towards the cradle. She took in the sight of the pulsing lights as the doctors worked on her, opening the front of her gown and swabbing her skin for the EKG sensors that would be placed on her chest. _This is for the best. I'm ready._

_Really?_ Renzol pushed the niggling thought off her mind, her resolve steeled now. There was no looking back. She would move forward, no matter what.

"Renzol?" She looked up to find the anesthesiologist standing above her. The female doctor placed the inhalation mask over her face and pulled the strap behind her head, firmly but gently. "Just breathe steadily and count down from ten for me, Renzol."

_This is what I need._ Renzol took a deep breath and began counting. "Ten… nine…" She almost made it to eight before the general anesthesia took over and she sank, her consciousness fading as the numbing agents spread throughout her body.

Renzol felt her arms and legs spasm one last time before she lost consciousness.

* * *

Renzol found herself in a great round hall. The surfaces were sleek obsidian metal. Not a single bolt or seam could be found as the walls curved around to form a domed ceiling. An encircling balcony reminiscent of the Skyranger hangar bay looped around the open room. In the middle of the hall, several meters lower than the surrounding platform, a still pool of liquid metal resided. It radiated cool temperatures, its unbroken surface streaked with hues of deep blue with an occasional glimmer of steel gray. An ethereal, pulsing glow in the center of the hall lit the chamber from everywhere and nowhere, dying down as it stretched outwards, leaving the back walls of the balcony wreathed in shadows. Where had this place come from? Was this her subconscious, manifesting itself before her? Was it a response to the stress she was going through, forming to appear as various places in her life? Was it The Box? Maybe it was all of those things; maybe it was none of them.

Renzol wiggled her toes. She was standing at the top of a flight of stairs leading down into the pool. She was naked and it was _cold_. The chill emanated from the metal all around her, driving into her bones. The steel steps sapped the warmth from her feet as Renzol took a step forward. It was partially in order to break contact with the cold surface, but even more so out of curiosity. The pool fascinated her. She could see the reflection of the surrounding platform and the ceiling in the unwavering surface. It could've been just the floor, but Renzol knew better. It was an ocean: deep, dark, and endless.

Her reflection stared up at her as Renzol stopped on the last step. The person looking up at her from the pool was streaked with profound hues of metal, its facial features unrecognizable. Renzol reached out her leg. She hesitated for a moment, letting her foot dangle above the surface. The pool was the source of the coldness, there was no doubt about it. Bracing herself, Renzol dipped her leg into the metal.

The sharp bite of frost, and then nothing. There were no ripples on the surface; the liquid wrapped itself smooth around her ankle. Renzol moved her leg around but there was almost no sensation within the pool, only the slightest hint of something streaming in-between her toes. She lifted her leg and her foot came back wearing a sock of metal. Not a single droplet hung from her skin, not a single ripple broke the surface. Renzol inspected her leg in wonder. A streak of navy blue ran across her sole, the surrounding skin painted silver. Renzol laid her foot down on the step. It landed with a hard clang, oblivious to the coldness of the stairs under her. Renzol stepped into the pool.

The multi-hued surface climbed up her shins and to her thighs as Renzol waded deeper into the fascinating body of metal. The sting of the cold on her skin subsided with every step she took as more and more of her body was transformed. Her arms came back shining where they dipped under the surface. The going was easy at first, the liquid offering minimal resistance. Yet the deeper she made it, the harder it was becoming. Her movements grew laboured as the metal reached her chest. And then she was in the center of the hall, the surface up to her collarbones now. There was nothing left to do but grab her nose and dive under, like in the summer days of her childhood. But now that she was here, Renzol felt hesitant. Was she truly ready to give herself to the metal?

She was being watched. Renzol forgot her intentions of sinking below the surface as she lifted her eyes to the level above. Her mother was looking down at her. Her hair had gone gray since the last time she had seen her, and her face was streaked with sorrow under the multitudes of wrinkles. Had she really been so old? When was the last time Renzol had seen her? She couldn't remember anymore. She belonged to a different Renzol, a different life. A life before the war. "My daughter… my only daughter." The words disappeared into silence as the vision faded away. Renzol didn't know what to feel, so she chose to feel nothing.

She turned to find a faceless crowd from her school days had appeared. The girls had always been sniggering at her, teasing and shunning, slowly but surely sapping the joy of those days out of her with their poison. Now, they wore a look of unified horror. They whispered to each other, their voices frantic and frightened as they couldn't take their eyes off her. _That's right,_ Renzol thought triumphantly. _Look at me. Look at what I've become. You brought me down back then, now nothing will. True strength. You never even knew the meaning of the word._

A terrified cry took Renzol's attention. Atlanton was standing within the crowd. Her eyes were wide and horrified, her hand covering her mouth. Her blue eyes were fixated on Renzol. Those eyes struck her like a dagger. _She doesn't recognize me. She doesn't recognize me anymore._

"Who… who is that? _What_ is that?" Atlanton sobbed, tears painting her cheeks wet. Hunterhr stepped forward from the shadows behind her, wrapping a consoling arm around her shoulders.

"You do not want to know. Come, let's go." Hunterhr's eyes met Renzol's briefly. They were full of contempt and conviction. He led Atlanton away. The apparition of her fallen friend gave her one last look. She didn't know her anymore. They disappeared into the shadows.

"Was it worth it?" inquired a deep voice from behind her. It was a voice Renzol hadn't heard in a long time. Turning around in the body of liquid metal was almost impossible now: her movements were heavy as the substance around her refused to give way. Her arms and legs fought against the pressure until finally, she faced the man kneeling on the edge of the platform.

He wore the kevlar BDUs of XCOM's early days. A G36 assault rifle rested against his knee. The scar running over his right eye was distinct as ever. Frag looked pensive and a little bit sad as she met his gaze. There was another voice from the shadows behind him, this one cold and hard and so very familiar to Renzol, "Looks like she found her answer."

She appeared as she always did in Renzol's dreams: Dark skin glimmering with sweat, hair pulled up to a tight ponytail, wrists and knuckles covered in white tape. She was wearing navy blue sweatpants and the tank top with _Lockdown_ embroidered across the front. Foogleman exchanged a look with Frag before she turned to look directly at Renzol. Her eyes were completely unreadable.

"Or did you?" Foogleman's question hung heavy in the air.

Renzol finally found her tongue and opened her mouth to answer. But as she did the metal swam up her neck, pouring over her lips and filling her up to the brim from inside. She felt her organs turn into microscopic gyros and machines, her heart and veins replaced by hydraulics that pumped black oil through her systems. She sank under the surface, the faces of her fallen comrades disappearing as she was taken in by the metal.

_This is what I need._

* * *

"It's almost time now. You scared?"

Wolfer let out a snort of contempt at Daishi's words. He was propped up in his bed in the medbay. Their corner of the long room was empty; Kilroy had already said her goodbyes and she looked uncharacteristically serious and pensive in her cot.

"No. I've made my decision. The moment you start second-guessing yourself, you're fucked. I learned that the hard way," Wolfer said, his voice hard and unyielding.

Daishi let out a pensive _hmm_ at his words. She was sitting on the edge of his bed as always. "That's funny," she said, and Wolfer raised an eyebrow at her choice of words. Daishi noticed it and was quick to amend herself, shaking her head furiously, "No no no… that's not what I meant. I mean… let me tell you a story." Wolfer nodded and Daishi breathed deep, gathering her thoughts.

"My dad was in the army. He was an infantry platoon officer. He would be on roto for months at a time. I barely ever saw him but whenever he came back, I always spent all the time I could with him. My parents were divorced ever since I can remember." Daishi looked off into the distance with a smile as she recalled her childhood. "I respect my father. Back then, more than anything, I wanted to be like him. A fearless soldier. He's the reason I'm here today, instead of trying to make it with my singing.

"This one time – I think I was six – my father had just gotten back to Ottawa from tour. He was dead tired but he picked me up anyway. I had my own room in his lodgings, with colorful bedsheets full of tanks and rocket launchers." Daishi chuckled at the memory. "I have no idea where he found them. Such a boyish pattern but the colors were bright pink, my favorite.

"Sorry, back to the story. So there I was, going to bed. But on the wall right next to my bed, there was a huge spider. You know how much I hate spiders," she eyed Wolfer with an embarrassed grin. "But more than that, I was afraid of them. Still, trying to be brave, I rolled up my coloring book.

"I couldn't do it though. I must have stood there for half an hour, but I just couldn't do it. I was afraid the thing would jump at me if I got any closer. To this day I can't forgive my friend who told me about jumping spiders!" This time, it was Wolfer who chuckled as Daishi exchanged a smile with him. "Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I ran to my father, crying and sobbing incoherently about some stupid spider. He had just fallen asleep, but he still got up. He calmed me down and dried my tears, asking me what was wrong. I felt so stupid explaining it to him, the whole thing with the jumping and all. I was ashamed. I wanted to be like him but I couldn't even kill a single spider. But my father didn't think I was stupid, or cowardly. He took me to my bedroom and rolled up the coloring book. He held my hand in his as he helped me swat it."

Daishi took Wolfer's hand in hers as she recounted the rest of her story. "I cried, even after we had killed it. My father is such a great man. He knew it wasn't about the spider at all. So he knelt before me and asked me what was wrong. I was barely cohesive as I explained it through the sobs. How I wanted to be fearless like him, how I was ashamed of myself. My dad dried my tears once again and took me in his embrace. I'll never forget what he told me: 'Dear Daishy, we're all afraid. I'm so scared that one of these days when I come back, you won't be here waiting for me. Or that something terrible happens to me and I'll leave you here all alone with your mother.' I couldn't believe it. He was always so brave. I asked him about it and he told me something. Something that really shaped me, something that has stayed with me ever since. It's so obvious when you think about it. He said: 'Daishy, you can only be brave when you're afraid.'"

The waiting room fell silent as Wolfer thought about the story. Daishi patted him on the hand before standing up. She paced a slow circle around his bedside before coming to a halt, looking him directly in the eye. "Wolfer. I'm afraid. I'm absolutely terrified about what's going to happen. But that's okay. Because I'm not alone, because together we can do this." As happened often with Daishi, Wolfer found himself devoid of a response. He was beginning to think she was the wisest person he had ever known.

"Do you believe in God, Wolfer?"

The question hit him straight out of the blue. "I don't… know," he responded awkwardly, "I don't really think about it." Wolfer's brow furrowed as he considered the question. "Yeah, I suppose I do."

Daishi knelt on his bedside, offering her hands to him, palms up. "Then pray with me. For my sake." Wolfer looked her in the eye. They were pleading with him. Wolfer placed his hand in hers, and she grasped him tight.

"Heavenly Father, hear this prayer in our time of need. I'm afraid, Father. Afraid of the unknown, of the abyss that awaits us. Grant us your strength and courage, so we may carry this cross of ours, and not be crushed under its iron weight. Grant us your might, so we may smite your foes, the ones who would threaten the very existence of your children. Grant us your wisdom, so we may know right from wrong in these dark times. And lastly, grant us your everlasting love and mercy, so that once all is said and done, we may yet find refuge in your arms."

Tears brimmed in Daishi's closed eyes as she recited from the Book of Psalms, her voice trembling with emotion: "The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness, for his name's sake.

"And even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

"You prepare a table before me in the presence of the enemy; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows." Daishi broke down as she moved onto the final verse, tears running down her cheeks as she sobbed through the words: "Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord, forever and ever. Amen."

The medbay was silent but for the quiet weeping of Daishi. It was a prayer of salvation for two wounded and weary souls. The devout silence was broken by a quiet and shaking female voice calling from the door: "Technical Sergeant Wolfer? We're ready for you."

Daishi rose up, wiping the tears from her cheeks as she turned away. Wolfer was visibly shaken as he regarded the nurse. "Yeah," he agreed, his voice trembling the slightest bit, "Yeah, I'm ready."

The nurse rounded his bed and disengaged the brakes. As she got ready to move him, Daishi leaned in to grab Wolfer's hand one last time. "I'll see you on the other side," she whispered, her red eyes meeting his.

"I'll be waiting."

And then Wolfer was gone, disappearing into the deepest depths of the headquarters. Daishi was left alone, wiping away at her eyes, waiting for her turn to come.


	70. Chapter 70: Unbreakable

Chapter 70: Unbreakable

December 13th, 2015

XCOM Asia HQ, Cybernetic Augmentation Complex

Sounds of metal clashing on metal filled the MEC training hall. Two huge figures clad in gray alloy were locked in battle. One of the mechanized combatants was being pushed back, its feet grinding jagged scars into the floor with an ear-splitting screech. But just as its fall seemed inevitable, the figure slipped aside with surprising agility.

The aggressor stumbled forward, inevitably taken in by the sudden shift in force. It crashed hard to the ground, the training armor striking a jet of sparks off the metal floor. A deep voice cursed frantically behind the visored helmet as the MEC trooper struggled back to its feet. Without any hesitation, it resumed the attack.

Heavy strikes rained in from all angles. The second combatant kept its guard up, backing away slowly in front of the relentless assault. The metallic ringing caused by the titanic melee was overwhelming now. Any human caught in the midst of it would no doubt have been reduced to a wet stain on their armor within seconds.

The battle reached its conclusion as the defender stopped its retreat. The cybersuits clashed head-on, grabbing each other in an embrace of steel. The aggressor's movements had already grown weary, and all it took was another clever shift of balance to bring both of the MEC troopers slamming hard into the ground, the defender ending up on top.

The visor of the victorious MEC trooper receded to reveal a grinning Daishi. Her face was flushed with excitement. "Three-nothing. Better luck next time, eh?" she quipped, thoroughly pleased with her performance.

The second trainee cursed again and Daishi let out a surprised yelp as she was pushed aside, her suit rattling hard as she landed on the floor. The loser rose to its feet and struggled with its huge hands on its head. Another litany of profanities followed before it finally removed the helmet successfully. Wolfer was panting hard from the effort, his face and buzz cut hair doused with sweat. He took another few frantic breaths of fresh air before taking off without a word, heading towards one of the doors on the side.

The door opened at his approach and Wolfer stepped inside. A man dressed in a lab coat turned to regard him from the console located by the window overlooking the training area. He was a new face; Wolfer had never seen him before today. The MEC trooper simply stood by the door, catching his breath. He looked absolutely menacing: the training cybersuit wasn't as heavily armored as the combat exoskeleton, but Wolfer was still a man of metal standing two and a half meters tall.

The scientist adjusted his dark-rimmed glasses as he rose from his seat. "Technical Sergeant! How did the training go?" Wolfer didn't respond. The scientist waited for an answer, shuffling his feet uncomfortably as the hulking figure remained silent. Clearing his throat, the man reached for a tablet on the terminal. Swiping at the screen a few times, he took a step towards Wolfer and said, "You are still having abnormally high levels of exertion during exercise: your pulse peaked at one hundred and eighty-five. Remember, let the suit do the work—"

The scientist's words were cut short as Wolfer's massive fist slammed into the wall. It wasn't the first time: the wall next to the door was heavily scratched and dented. The tablet was forgotten in the scientist's hands as he stared at Wolfer with a wide-eyed expression of horror. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound left him.

Wolfer closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. "Sorry," he apologized in a flat and dull voice.

Wolfer's heart was barely in it, but the apology was enough to bring the scientist out of his stupor. "I'll just… I'll log these in," he mumbled, turning back to the computer.

The cybersuit assembly station stood in the corner of the room. Wolfer crossed over in four clanging strides. He placed the helmet in its rack and settled with his back against the wall. He focused and the breastplate of the cybersuit swung open. Wolfer's muscles pulsed from the exercise as he struggled to concentrate on the cybernetic interface. Finally, he managed to break the connection and the suit snapped free of his shoulders. The sensation of not having arms made Wolfer nauseous. He leaned his torso forward and the crane operated by the scientist snapped his prosthetic arms back in place. Two rails ran along the sides of the station and Wolfer grabbed onto them, disconnecting his hips from the cybersuit. Wolfer held himself up while his legs were re-attached to his body. With his regular prosthetics finally re-connected, Wolfer laid himself down with a sigh of relief and took a few tentative steps.

Wolfer was completely drenched under the gray piloting suit that clung to his body. He cursed himself under his breath. Renzol and Daishi hadn't had to take a shower after the training sessions in days. Without a word, Wolfer headed out of the room, leaving the scientist to tend to the cybersuit. Wolfer would be reprimanded for his rash behavior again, but he didn't care. A silent dread spread in his stomach as the phantom burn in his amputated biceps resonated with his trembling pectorals and strained abdominal muscles.

_Maybe today. Maybe today will be the day,_ Wolfer thought as he headed for the showers.

* * *

A steady clanging filled the hallways as Renzol made her way through the Cybernetic Augmentation Complex (CAC). The premises were located on the lowest level of the headquarters, deep underground. The CAC consisted of several training facilities, temporary MEC trooper quarters, offices and workplaces of engineers and medical personnel, a small mess and more. It was a fully functional machine, isolated from the rest of the base.

The setup was for more than just simple convenience. The early days of the MEC troopers had been difficult as they had learned to maneuver in their new bodies. The Mark 1 cybernetic augments were light and easier to manipulate than the more advanced models, but there had still been a lot of stumbling and relying on the support railing that lined the walls everywhere. The rest of the outfit couldn't see the MEC volunteers like that; they were supposed to be indestructible and all-powerful. The fist of Earth's finest that would crush the enemy once and for all.

Renzol hadn't had to rely on the railing since day three, and she had never called for orderlies with her wrist-mounted panic button. The Mark 3 cybernetic augments swung with heavy intent as she walked towards the mess following her training session. She had surpassed Daishi and Wolfer in all of the cybernetic affinity tests early on and had been the first one to graduate to the most advanced Mark 3 augments. And to the MEC-1 Warden cybersuit.

Training with the prototype combat exoskeleton was unlike anything Renzol had ever felt. She had never been one to take great pleasure in her work as a rocketeer: the satisfaction was there when she nailed a flawless shot in training, but there wasn't much emotion beyond professional pride. Sometimes, she would feel a spark of destructive anger, but that mostly only happened on the battlefield. In those moments, her cool, calculating façade would break to release her wrath. Renzol could never forget the battle where Hawkeye had been killed. She had been consumed by a red fog, giving orders in a voice she had never even known she had as she had led the charge against the overwhelming enemy force.

Renzol knew of the feelings simply training with high explosives could bring forth: She had seen the awkward gait of JBowles after a long training session at the demolitions range, and everyone had heard Stoli's bedroom cries when she threw grenades. Orgun was always louder and drank harder after blowing shit up and Pavehawk; you didn't want to cross Pavehawk when she was riled up from the adrenaline released by the thunderous beating of high explosives.

The MEC suit was all that to Renzol, and more. The satisfying hiss and whirr of the gyros and engines as her legs kicked up mounds of dirt. The resounding thump as she landed several meters only to effortlessly spring forth again with the bend of mechanical knees. The targeting reticule of the Ordinance Delivery System tracing trajectories on her visor through sheer will. The supersonic crack of the railgun as she held the monstrous kickback effortlessly at bay with her arms. She couldn't wait to take the suit to the battlefield. The satisfaction pulsed deep within her, seeping into her very being. She was finally whole. She was strong as no man or woman had ever been. Inside the MEC suit, she was unbreakable.

To everyone's surprise, Renzol suffered from minimal complications following the amputations. There was the occasional tingle in her gone limbs, but the phantom sensations never escalated to painful. Sometimes, she would wiggle her toes and bend down to scratch them only to realize there was nothing encased within her metallic boots. She also had a hard time falling asleep, but she had always managed with minimal rest. The transition had been about as painless as one could wish for, and it only served to fuel Renzol's confidence in her decision. The same couldn't be said for the others.

Daishi spoke openly of her problems. She had streaks of melancholy that struck her every night. With the sadness came the phantom pains. She saw a psychiatrist two times a day to help with her budding depression. After the second night of agony, she had begun to sing.

Daishi claimed it helped with the pain, causing her clenched arms to slowly relax and her anxious heart to ease its beating. Renzol had heard her once. She had been on her way back to her own quarters when the sound of Daishi's singing had reached her in the corridor. Her voice had been hauntingly beautiful, rising slowly from a low moan until it reached for the heavens, bursting with emotion. Eventually her voice would die down, only to begin its ascent anew.

Renzol had forgotten herself in the hallway as she was absorbed by the intensity of emotion: love, sorrow, desolation, joy… hope. By the time Daishi was done, Renzol's eyes had been red. She had come back from her daze with a start. Wiping her cheeks, she had been relieved to find them dry. She hadn't stopped by Daishi's room again.

Renzol pushed in through the doorway and into the small mess hall. The canteen only contained a couple of four-seaters; the MEC volunteers were the only ones to regularly use the establishment as most of the staff still dined upstairs. Daishi and Wolfer were already sitting at a table against the wall and Renzol picked up her filled tray from the counter before seating herself across from them.

"Hey," Daishi greeted her. Renzol responded with a curt nod.

Wolfer and Daishi had both always been tall, and the MEC augmentation had done nothing to change that. However, the lighter Mark 2 augments Wolfer was sporting made the big man look disproportionate: gone were his massive biceps and wide thighs to match his bulging torso encased within the gray pilot's suit. Daishi looked delicate next to him, her slim figure compounded by a gentle smile dancing in and out of existence on her lips. But it was Renzol who had changed the most. Gone were her frail arms and legs, replaced by strong and thick alloy prosthetics. The mechanical limbs had been crafted specifically for each individual. For Renzol, they had lifted her posture by a good fifteen centimeters. She had gotten used to her new vantage point quickly, and she knew she would be standing eye-to-eye with Cell the next time they would meet.

"How did your training with the Warden go?" Daishi asked.

Renzol took her time to finish her mouthful before answering, "It was good. It's nothing like the training suits."

Wolfer let out a snort of contempt at her answer. Daishi ignored him as she kept up the conversation, "I'm looking forward to it. We're both getting the Mark 3s installed first thing tomorrow morning."

"About fucking time," Wolfer muttered without lifting his eyes off his food.

Daishi was about to reprimand him but thought better of it. He didn't need to hear right now how things would advance at their own pace, how it wasn't a race. Especially in front of Renzol. They continued their dinner in silence before Daishi picked up the conversation again, "How are you holding up, Renzol?"

"Good. Nothing to complain about."

"Bullshit," Wolfer muttered. He was grasping his fork hard, the metal bending under his synthetic fingers. He finally looked up at Renzol, his eyes burning with anger. "'Nothing to complain about.' Fucking that. How can you just sit there with that cold expression on your face? Don't you feel _anything?_"

"I feel just fine, Wolfer." Renzol's voice was hard and strained.

"Gives me the goddamn creeps," Wolfer muttered as he returned back to his meal.

Daishi gave him a concerned look before turning to Renzol. Her eyes were apologetic and Renzol acknowledged her with a nod. This time, the silence stretched on as the MEC troopers dined under the heavy atmosphere. Renzol was the first one to finish, and Daishi made the offer, "Will you join us in the lounge before curfew?"

"No thanks. I'll be meditating," Renzol declined as she did every day. Yet Daishi made the offer regardless. At this point, it may have been more for her own sake rather than any real expectation of Renzol accepting.

The sudden sound of shattering glass filled the mess, followed by a sharp curse from Wolfer. He was rubbing his left arm furiously, his face twisted in pain. Renzol quickly excused herself and rounded the small pool of milk and glass shards as she headed for the dish-pit and the exit.

Daishi laid a hand on Wolfer's shoulder. "Is it burning?" she asked, her voice quiet and understanding.

Wolfer's eyes were shut tight. "Like hell," he choked on the words.

The phantom pains came to Wolfer every day, beginning with training. The pain was pleasurable and gratifying at first, his biceps pumped and pulsing from the workout. But instead of dying down to natural soreness, the pain escalated throughout the day. The medication had helped for a day before falling useless. The second set of drugs had done nothing to relieve the agony. The only thing Wolfer could do was bear with it until he could take it no longer. Eventually he would retire to his room and start working out. Eighty, one hundred and thirty, two hundred… however many push-ups and sit-ups it would take for the remainder of his muscles to burn together with his phantom arms. Only then could he find rest, crashing into his bed and passing out from exhaustion.

Daishi nodded and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Maybe the drugs will help this time."

"No," Wolfer's voice was full of disappointment as his synthetic fingers dug into his palms. Tears brimmed in his closed eyes as he shook in his chair. "It's never getting better. It's never going away!"

"It will. We have to be strong," Daishi reassured him while gently caressing his back. Eventually, it would get easier. It had to.

* * *

How far can you push something before it breaks?

Renzol stood in front of a full body mirror in her temporary quarters. The room was about the same size as those granted to officers, furnished with a simple bed, a writing desk, a chair and a large locker. All of the MEC quarters also had a full body mirror mounted on the wall; the volunteers had been encouraged to undergo self-reflection on their changed bodies.

Renzol wheeled her head slowly from side to side as she inspected her naked self. Her face was expressionless and calm. Her eyes traced down along her neck and over her strong shoulders, to where her flesh disappeared under hardened metal. The sight was unnatural. Flesh and skin, they weren't supposed to _fold_ like that. Renzol clenched her fist and lifted her arm. The muscles in her neck and shoulders reacted, flexing along with the elerium-powered movement. She couldn't take her eyes off the connection point. There was something hypnotic in the way her body moved in perfect harmony with the machine.

How far can you push something before it breaks?

Renzol continued her inspection, over her flat chest and hardened abs, all the way down. Her tuft of hair looked so out of place and lonely without the womanly flesh of her thighs next to it. Instead, it was flanked by cold steel. Metal plating covered the slope of her hip bone where her augmented legs connected to her body. Renzol lifted her legs one after the other. The padded gyros that served as her knees whirred silently, followed by dull thumps as her metallic feet landed on the floor.

Any feelings of discomfort or unease over her new body were but a gentle breeze on Renzol's being. The Box had transformed together with her body: from the small wooden chest into an impenetrable vault, with blast doors and pressure seals to survive a nuclear apocalypse. Her emotions would never get the better of her again.

How far can you push something before it breaks?

Reaching a hand outwards, Renzol touched the cool surface of the mirror. The sensation still made her blink. Her metal arms ended in gray hands with firm yet soft fingers. The physicians and bio-engineers had assured her she would regain full touch in her fingertips, potentially even exceeding the tactile response of skin with time and practice. Despite their words, Renzol couldn't help but wonder. Was the sensation truly down to the synthetics in her fingers? Or was it just the ghost of her own flesh and blood, screaming through the empty hallways of her nervous system?

How far can you push something before it breaks?

Renzol pressed down on the mirror, and the glass under her fingers creaked. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. The first time was always the hardest. She loosened her grip until she was barely touching the surface. Then, she began pushing, slowly and gradually. The force was miniscule at first; insignificant, Renzol couldn't be sure whether it was there at all. But she would know the pressure before the night was over, the glass under her fingers moaning as it inevitably approached the point of no return.

How far can you push something before it breaks? The question is flawed in its very premise. You won't find an answer until the thing in question lies in pieces. And once broken, can something so precious ever be put back together again? Or is it forever lost to time, like it was never intact to begin with?

Renzol's mind couldn't find sleep, and her body no longer grew tired of standing on the cold metal floor. So she just gazed into the mirror, looking for an answer to her question. _A bit more. I can push just a little bit more._

How far can you push something before it breaks?


	71. Chapter 71: Steel Lady

Chapter 71: Steel Lady

26th of December, 2015

Melbourne, Australia

Operation Vengeful Gaze, Alien Terror Attack

Strike-1 responding

Commanding: CAPT Scubaman

PHALANX: CAPT Scubaman, GSGT JBowles, GSGT Stoli

RHINO: MSGT Cell, MSGT Renzol, MSGT Instinct

ZULU: MSGT DSM, MSGT Iku

The gangplank of the Skyranger crashed down, striking the pavement in the suburban area of Port Melbourne, Southwest of the South Melbourne Market. Several of the apartment buildings around the intersection were on fire, spewing black smoke to the afternoon skies. Sporadic small arms fire echoed from the south where the Australian defense was falling, and the rapid beating of anti-air weaponry and thundering of armor carried across the Yarra River to the northwest. A Fighter-class UFO swooped low over the city. The alien craft was executing evasive maneuvers, moving from side-to-side erratically. Four of the Royal Australian Air Force's F/A-18 Super Hornets were in hot pursuit. Their 20 mm rotary cannons spewed thousands of rounds at the enemy craft in a matter of seconds. The Fighter steeply banked up, and the Hornets missed their mark. A blast from the UFO's stern cannons connected with one of the fighter craft. The jet lost control, tumbling across the sky. Its engines spewed burning jet fuel and acrid smoke. The Hornet trailed an arch over the city before crashing into the bay with a great splash. The pilot didn't eject.

"Move, move, _move_!"

Scubaman was standing outside the Skyranger, motioning frantically with his gauss rifle as the rest of Strike-1 poured out of the transport. The black-and-yellow MEC-2 Warden hissed and clanged as Renzol descended in the middle of the pack. She formed up on Cell alongside Instinct.

"See you on the pier!"

Scubaman's words followed Rhino squad as Renzol took point. Her powerful mechanized legs drove her hulking body forward as she crossed the debris-littered intersection in six long strides. She entered the streets between the apartment buildings leading southwest towards Beach Street while Phalanx and Zulu would be taking control of the railroad leading to Station Pier.

Distant blaring of emergency sirens and the occasional explosion accompanied Rhino as they made their way through the streets of Port Melbourne. The bodies of both civilians and soldiers littered their path. Alien corpses were notable in their scarcity. The burning husk of an M1 Abrams stood forlorn at the next crossroads. The trio of operatives pushed up against the apartment building on their left as they approached the intersection. Cell took a knee, covering the fields of fire to her right as Instinct approached the corner.

"Clear," the assault reported. Cell gave Renzol the go-ahead.

The MEC trooper led the squad over the road. Her strides shook the ground. The main avenue was blocked by debris from a collapsed building, so they took to the left. The ruined battle tank was left behind as they continued to clear their way towards the beach. A series of rapid explosions echoed from the direction of the railroad. They proceeded to the end of the block before Cell's headset buzzed to life.

"_Rhino-1, Phalanx-1. We're under effective indirect fire! Send immediate support! Central will relay coordinates. How copy?"_

"Rhino-1 Copies all. We're on it. Out." Cell stopped her squad and relayed the new orders, "Phalanx is taking artillery fire. We're to bust the battery so they can proceed. Renzol?"

The cybersuit's netlink was already being fed information from Central as the GPS announced their new coordinates. Renzol brought up the map on her visor and quickly observed the new waypoints. "I've got it. On me," she said.

Cell and Instinct followed the archer as she took the fastest path to the enemy. It led right through the office building on the adjacent block, and Renzol wasted no time. She shoulder-checked her way through the tall windows on the building's front, shattering what was left of them. Fist-sized pieces of concrete, steel, and glass clattered across the lobby. The pristine tiling cracked under her feet as she advanced through the ground floor. Cell and Instinct followed the trail of destruction left behind by the MEC trooper, the clanging of her massive feet echoing around them. A corridor connected the lobby to the back of the building. The security door at the end gave way easily as Renzol busted through, tearing parts of the doorway with her.

Their way took them off their original path, leading farther south and away from the pier. Renzol weaved her way through the streets until she reached a back alley between two tall apartment buildings. She dashed out onto the sidewalk, her mind already focused on the Ordinance Delivery System.

The sectopod stood in the middle of the cracked road. Two drones buzzed in the air around it as the hulking weapons platform fired another barrage of plasma-charged warheads into the air. Three mutons stood in guard behind an overturned car. They never had the time to respond as Renzol took aim.

The ODS let out a hollow thud on her shoulder. The satchel charge loaded with elerium and alloy landed on the car. _Detonate_, Renzol thought the command. A huge explosion sent the car and the mutons behind it flying. Two of the aliens were killed by the impact as they were crushed under the vehicle. The last one stumbled away frantically, only to be taken down by a shot from Instinct's alloy cannon.

The massive robotic alien turned, its wide feet stomping the ground. "Cover!" Renzol shouted as she slammed her railgun to the ground. She pushed her head down and prepared for impact as Instinct huddled against her back.

The crimson beam of high-energy cannon fire struck Renzol hard. Alarms blared in her head as she held her ground, the MEC-2 Warden shaking at its joints. She could take this much. She knew she could. The second barrage glanced her shoulder, but she didn't flinch. The deafening roar of cannon fire was ringing in her ears as a new sound swam to her: the familiar chatter of the gauss autorifle.

Renzol looked up. The sectopod's front closed as it protected itself from the relentless hail of alloy rounds. A huge repeating plasma cannon rose from its back as it prepared to respond. Renzol had no intention of giving it the opportunity.

The charge hadn't even landed as Renzol detonated the explosive in the air before the sectopod. The alien weapon was consumed by the massive explosion. The drones were reduced to scrap metal as they clattered down to the ground. All the while, Cell's autorifle sang its deadly song as she held the weapon trained on the monstrous machine. By the time the dust settled, the sectopod was reduced to a smoking wreckage.

"Phalanx-1, this is Rhino-1. Dusted a big-ass robot over here. You're clear, over." Cell was grinning madly as she relayed the information. She glanced at Instinct, who was huddled behind Renzol with a wide-eyed expression, and over to the MEC trooper herself. "Fuck me! Now that's what I call a breach! Come on, let's keep it up."

"Roger," Renzol replied. Her voice was steady, but her heart was pumping with excitement like never before. She made a quick observation of her systems: the status of the armor on her shoulder and chest was yellow, but all of the cybersuit's subsystems were fully functional. She took point once again as Rhino squad resumed their objective of taking Beach Street.

Renzol couldn't believe she was finally out on the field. She was made for this.

* * *

The rocket exploded, making the berserker reel from the impact. Despite losing its left arm, the beast clambered back up, roaring in blood-curdling fury. It kept on coming.

"Fall back!"

Another plasma barrage whizzed past Scubaman as he joined Stoli in their retreat. They had been forced back the length of one block already, and he had no intention of staying in one place for long. Stoli disappeared behind a blue Toyota and Scubaman followed, sliding over the hood of the car.

The street was flooded by all-consuming fire. The berserker's roars were drowned out as the creature was torn to shreds by the sectopod's artillery barrage. Shrapnel flew through the car's windows and sank into its frame as Scubaman pressed himself down next to Stoli, covering the nape of his neck with his hands. _Dios mío, hurry the fuck up Cell,_ he urged in his mind as the ground rumbled from the impact of the relentless explosions.

"—_big-ass robot over here. You're cleared, over."_

Scubaman blinked as he struggled to make sense of the message over his headset. His ears were ringing relentlessly. The captain instinctively checked his rifle as he regained eyes on the enemy. Three mutons were still oriented against their position while two more kept working on assembling a large, cannon-like weapon on the railroad that cut through the street two blocks down. One of the aliens working on the assembly slumped over, now headless. Zulu had arrived.

"Copy that Rhino-1," Scubaman answered. He couldn't hear his own speech over the incessant ringing, and he raised his voice to an excited shout as he called out to Stoli and JBowles:

"We're clear! Let's take these xeno scum out!"

Scubaman fired at the enemy, and one of the mutons pulled behind an apartment building. Another enemy fell as Iku found his mark yet again.

"Moving!" Scubaman yelled as he took off.

JBowles' rifle cracked rapidly with covering fire as the squad leader ducked and weaved his way through the cratered street. He dove into one of the improvised foxholes and took a shot, hitting one of the mutons in the shoulder. The creature howled in anger, sending a barrage of plasma high into the air.

Stoli crashed down next to Scuba. She pushed up to her knee and pulled the pin from an alien grenade. Her intense shout carried the explosive. The injured muton was thrown back, its armor cracked open from the impact of the explosion. Yet another enemy fell as Iku rained death from above. Scubaman pushed up to his feet and dashed over to the left.

The remaining muton was holed up behind the last building across the street. Scuba gave Stoli the signal and the engineer pitched another grenade at the enemy. Devastated bricks and mortar went flying as the green explosion took apart the corner of the building. Scubaman was already away, rifle shouldered as he approached to flank the enemy.

The muton had pulled back farther along the side of the building, covering its eyes with a massive arm. Before it had time to reorient, Scubaman squeezed the trigger. He held the recoil of the gauss rifle firmly at bay. The alien slumped over, five rounds embedded in its gut and chest. Scubaman snapped around to check his rear. The railroad was clear. Around one point five klicks down, he could see Station Pier and the two luxury cruise liners that had crashed into the docks.

Stoli had already moved up the street. The engineer was crouched down next to the alien weapon. It consisted of a massive muzzle trained towards the docks alongside a bipod and a base plate. It resembled a huge mortar but it had been hooked up to an elerium generator. Scubaman didn't want to think what kind of damage it would be able to inflict.

Stoli primed the C4 and slid the explosive down the muzzle of the alien cannon. There was no time to think about capturing it; they had to move fast to clear the AO, and leaving an almost assembled weapon for the enemy to use was out of the question. Scubaman pulled back behind a building and Stoli settled next to him. The engineer's pert cheeks were flushed with excitement as she raised the detonator. A wild grin bloomed on her face as she gave the detonator three sharp slaps between her hands. The alien cannon split open in a deafening explosion.

"Are you always this excited for carnage? Or is it my irresistible presence that makes you flush so?" Scuba shouted over his still-ringing ears as debris and metal rained down on the street.

Stoli let out a heartfelt laugh. "Ask me after, _papi!_"

Scuba lifted an eyebrow at the suggestive response. JBowles was making his way towards them through the devastated street and Scuba turned his attention back to the operation at hand. There was still a lot to do before the alien attack would be repelled.

* * *

Rhino had continued their way towards Beach Street. Above them, Lieutenants Steinhoff and Zhao had finally taken control of the skies together with the Royal Australian Air Force. The rest of the battle would come down to the joint ground forces: the Australian Army was regrouping for a push into Southern Melbourne, and it was XCOM's objective to ensure the safety of the civilians at Station Pier until the military could push forward.

A large billboard stood by the side of the road. It depicted a pristine white cruise liner and a happily smiling family: father, mother, and three children. _'Join us for the Boxing Day Family Cruise of 2015!'_

Cell gave the sign a glance as she crossed the road. "Hell of a day for family bonding," she remarked.

Instinct laughed, his voice a deep rumble. "Ties forged in fire and blood? Sign me up," the assault said.

A wide grin spread on Cell's face. "I like the way you think, Dean!"

The two of them continued down the street behind Renzol. The MEC trooper kept the pace up effortlessly, her great legs speeding her towards the end of the block. She rounded the corner into a back alley. At the end of the short passage, Beach Street stretched on before them. The lanes were divided by an embankment of palm trees in the middle. The street was flanked by a sandy beach on one side and luxurious hotels, restaurants and apartment buildings on the other. An ASLAV Light Armored Vehicle stood on the road closest to the alley. The vehicle was smoking but still operational. Its 25mm gun attempted to reorient down Beach Street, to the left of Rhino's position.

A supersonic crack rang in the air. Something punched through the armor at an incredible velocity from a steep angle, making the ASLAV rock on its suspension. The turret came to a halt as the smoke rising from the vehicle blackened.

"Holy shit!" Cell yelled in surprise. She brought the squad to a stop. "Whatever the fuck just did that, you're not going anywhere near it. Got it?"

Renzol nodded at her friend's words. The gesture was almost indistinguishable as the helmet of the MEC suit barely moved. "Affirmative," Renzol reiterated. Rhino moved up towards Beach Street and the smoking wreckage of the ASLAV.

Cell pushed up against the wall and looked around the corner. On the other side of Beach Street, a small but stylish wooden café was partially blocked out of sight by the destroyed armor. Farther down the beach, around one klick away, five mutons were rapidly making their way towards the café. And in the air above the streets one block down, a horrifying sight greeted Cell.

The floater was in constant motion as its powerful jets swung it back and forth. The creature was covered in heavy armor plating, the three red eyes on its helmet compounded by the crimson blaze of its engines. In its hands, the alien held a long rail gun. The heavy floater took aim and the weapon in its hands roared.

Cell pulled back into cover. The corner of the building kicked up debris as the alloy slug drilled right through it. The anti-armor round sank into the wall on the other side of the alley, leaving a gaping hole in the concrete. Cell cursed under her breath. There was no way they could engage.

"All call signs, this is Rhino-1. Contact contact. One klick southeast the café on the beach. We have a pod of mutons moving towards SP. We are cut off by a heavy floater with anti-armor capabilities. Request immediate fire support at our location. Renzol can't engage! I repeat, the MEC cannot engage, over."

"_Phalanx-1_. _Copy that, Rhino-1. Zulu-1 will assist. Over."_

Cell gritted her teeth and regained eyes on the enemy. She sent a burst of suppressive fire in its direction. The floater dodged her bullets with ease, shifting horizontally in the air. This time the alloy slug cratered the asphalt by the gunner's feet as she pulled away from the enemy.

"Motherfucker," Cell muttered as she prepared to answer. Their position was awkward to say the least; the support had better arrive soon. She keyed her mic to reply.

* * *

DSM emerged from the alley and crossed the street in a lightning dash. She swung her gauss rifle from side-to-side as she sped towards her new waypoint. The rifle had been modified with a rail-mounted ACOG and a laser sight for both long range and CQC; regardless, the gauss rifle was the least dangerous of the weapons the scout carried with her.

DSM rounded the apartment building and gained eyes on Beach Street down the road. She knew she was in range. Coming to a halt, she observed the buildings around her. Finding what she needed, she took off once again, sprinting over to the maintenance ladder. The bottom rung was two-and-a-half meters from the ground. DSM swung her rifle to her back and jumped, grabbing onto the ladder. Pulling herself up, she ascended with urgency. The building had been shaken by a plasma bomb, and the ladder groaned as the scout made her way up.

The ladder held, and DSM pulled herself up to the roof. She swung the rifle back in her hands and moved up to the edge of the building. Her mind was already focused, the music inside her a discordant crashing of cymbals and organ. She gained eyes on the heavy floater quite some distance away.

DSM opened her mind, and the opera house came to her effortlessly. The music turned up, and the dissonant chords beat against the edges of her mind's temple. The psi trooper kept her focus, keeping the maddening sounds within the confines of the opera house. Sending her will out, she searched for the heavy floater. The visual connection made it easy.

The mind DSM touched upon was alien in the truest sense of the word: the emotions and instincts were a jumbled mess of beating and clanging machinery. She couldn't find a single trace of cognitive thought: the creature was driven on by a primordial urge to pillage and destroy. Under all of it, a black current of deep fear pumped through the enemy. DSM tapped onto that current. She held her mind strong against the agony that attempted to swarm over her: the blades chopping away at flesh, the piercing pain as invasive machinery replaced what was lost.

DSM let the opera house collapse, and the crashing music flowed from her into the enemy, sending the dark currents running wild inside the floater. She let out as much as she dared before cutting the connection with a gasp. She was left feeling empty and drained. Slumped against her cover, she took a moment to gather herself before shouldering her rifle.

* * *

The heavy floater let go of its weapon with a chilling howl. Grasping its head with clawed hands, the creature struggled to stay afloat. Cell steadied her weapon and gave the order:

"_Go!_"

The chattering of the gauss autorifle followed Renzol as she burst forth from the alley. She rounded the burning ASLAV and charged towards the café. The mutons had just reached the area and the appearance of the archer cut their advance on Station Pier short. The aliens took cover amidst the flimsy parasol tables of the low patio and opened fire. A jet of plasma glanced off Renzol's helmet; she barely felt the impact that would've dropped a normal soldier to the ground. The reticule of the ODS locked on target. Renzol hit the low point of gravity in her bounding stride. The cannon on her shoulder thumped.

The explosion consumed the patio. Shredded parasols went flying up in the air as splinters of wood crashed through the café's windows. Two mutons were instantly slain by the impact. The MEC trooper closed the distance. Alloy rounds rained down on the aliens as DSM, Cell, and Instinct provided covering fire in depth. Renzol was amidst the enemy.

The rail gun in the archer's massive hands cracked. A muton was thrown off the smoldering patio. Renzol swung her weapon at the next alien, catching it in the temple. The creature slumped down and a great boot of metal crashed down on its face, breaking the floorboards and crushing its skull. Ichor and brains spilled all over the sand. A barrage of ionized elerium landed on Renzol's back. She swooped around and caught the last muton squarely in the chest with a backhand. The alien stumbled back towards the café, falling flat on its back. Renzol was on top of it in two huge strides. She grabbed the alien by its collar and lifted it into the air, jamming the railgun against its midsection.

One hundred kilojoules of kinetic energy were applied at point-blank range to the muton's body in the form of a 35 gram alloy round. The slug blasted right through the alien, shattering the back wall of the shaded café. A spray of ichor painted the back counter yellow. A spiraling stream of shredded entrails followed, landing over the cash register in a tangled mess. The remains of the muton dangled in Renzol's grasp. Its lower body held on by pitiful scraps of tendons. All it took was a firm shake to make the creature break in two. Renzol tossed the disfigured torso aside.

The MEC trooper stood amidst the destruction. The cybersuit heaved up and down together with her breathing. Her helmet clacked as the lower half retreated, revealing her mouth and jaw. Renzol drew in a deep, shaky breath of fresh air. The adrenaline-fueled battle fury slowly receded, making her shiver.

"Holy motherfucking _shit!_"

Cell arrived next to Renzol. Her mouth was agape as she stepped into the café, looking upon the destroyed remains of the muton in awe. She turned back to look at Renzol, the astonishment slowly being replaced by a grin. She finally found her tongue again, but her comment was stopped by a quiet sniffle from behind the counter.

Cell crossed over to the back of the shady café. Behind the counter next to the dangling muton interiors, a tiny figure was hugging its knees against its chest.

"Damn," the gunner muttered. She swung her autorifle to her back and knelt next to the child. The girl couldn't have been older than ten. "You okay kid?" Cell asked. Her voice was a soft whisper.

The girl lifted her head and looked up at Cell. Her eyes were red but she wasn't crying, at least not anymore. Those eyes were tired and afraid, but also bright and sharp at the same time.

"Are the bad men gone?" the girl whispered.

"Yes. Yes they are. What's your name, kid?"

"Dana." Her answer was meek, and it brought a smile to Cell's face.

"Hi, Dana. I'm Cell. Do you want to come with me? We'll take you to a safe place."

The girl looked ashamed as she laid her head back down against her knees. Cell let out a sympathetic and understanding _ah_. "If you can't walk, I'll carry you. Is that okay?"

Dana nodded and Cell reached over. "Here we go," Cell muttered as she hoisted the girl up. She grasped on tight, wrapping her arms around Cell's strong neck as the gunner carried her back out of the café.

"Look what I found!" Cell proclaimed merrily. She didn't see a reaction out of Renzol, but Instinct lifted his eyebrows at the sight.

"Fire and blood, huh," Instinct said and Cell answered him with a grin. Instinct addressed the girl directly, "Do you know where your parents are?"

Dana shook her head at the question. "I was with Maggie," she finally muttered into Cell's shoulder. "But they left."

Cell patted her on the back as she turned to Instinct, her voice full of disgust, "Fuck me. Doesn't matter if they're not your own I guess." Instinct covered up his smile at Cell's liberal use of profanities.

"Anyway, you'll be alright kiddo. We'll take you to a safe place. I'm sure you're parents are just fine, too," Cell reassured Dana, and the girl managed a weak nod. Cell raised her voice, "Let's keep it up guys. There aren't any more patrols reported on the AO, but I don't wanna get caught on this open beach. Hustle up!"

Rhino started their way towards Station Pier. Instinct and Cell moved in a light jog to keep up with Renzol's steady and long gait. Cell let out the occasional cuss as the autorifle banged against the back of her legs while she struggled to carry Dana comfortably. Down the beach at Station Pier, the two cruise liners stood in port. One of them had crashed deep into the docks, and the other one had a gaping hole in its side. The smoke had long since stopped rising as the fire had been put out. The joint air forces had managed to end the UFO raid, and the ground forces had taken care of the second wave that had threatened the civilian targets.

"Halt!" Cell called as she stopped to adjust her autorifle with one hand.

Dana had begun to overcome her stupor, and she had been craning her neck the whole way, looking at Renzol with childish curiosity. "Are you the Iron Man?" she asked. Renzol shifted uncomfortably at the question, the cybersuit's joints hissing with the motion.

Cell barked up a hearty laugh at the exchange. "That's no man, silly!" she light-heartedly scolded Dana. "That's the Steel Lady! You better remember that, alright?" The girl didn't take her eyes off Renzol as she nodded absentmindedly. That was when the idea came to Cell. She turned her head and whispered into Dana's ear, "You wanna do something awesome, kiddo?"

Cell didn't wait for an answer as she walked up to Renzol and lifted the girl up. Renzol let out a surprised curse, and Cell only managed to land Dana on the MEC trooper's wide left shoulder due to her instinctively bending a knee. The child gasped, grabbing onto Renzol's helmet as the archer brought up a massive hand to tentatively support her back.

"Cell! What are you doing?" Renzol asked in a demanding voice. She was afraid she'd break the girl with her powerful fingers.

Cell laughed at the intensity in Renzol's voice. "You're the one with metal for muscles! Why should I have to carry her around? Come on, let's go."

The squad continued their way along the beach. Renzol focused on keeping her platform as stable as possible. She quickly settled into an efficient pace, and the steady going gave Dana the courage to straighten her back. She held onto Renzol's helmet with one hand while grasping a huge finger with the other. She wore an expression of pure awe as she observed the beachside from her new vantage point. The ocean winds picked up her dark and thin hair, tussling it around.

"How're you liking the ride, kiddo?" Cell shouted over the hiss and clang of the cybersuit and the thrumming of the wind. Dana looked over, wordless. Cell burst into joyous laughter at her expression of wonder.

Finally, the squad made it to Station Pier. They climbed up a short flight of stairs to the parking lot. Over half of the cars were smoldering wreckages, and at the end of the asphalted area towards the wharf, a small crowd of people regarded the arrival of the MEC trooper with wide eyes. The vast majority of people were still inside the cruise liners; the captains had done an admirable job in preventing panic. A stampede caused by thousands of people attempting to abandon ship would have been devastating.

"About time you showed up!" Scubaman cheerfully greeted the operatives of Rhino squad. The Latino had been conversing with a soldier wearing the faded desert camo BDUs of the Australian Army. The man's insignia identified him as a sergeant. Noticing the girl riding on Renzol's shoulder, a wide grin spread on Scuba's face.

"Who's this little _dama_? And here I thought I only sent three fearless operatives to take Beach Street!" Dana turned to look at the smiling Latino with a puzzled look on her face. Scuba's smile widened as he walked up to Renzol. The captain dug around in his tactical vest and pulled out a crumpled Snickers bar.

Dana shook her head at the offered sweet. Cell laughed at the feigned look of hurt that rose to Scuba's face. "Come on Dana. You can have it. He's a good guy, even if he doesn't look the part!" The girl looked from Cell to Scuba before finally taking the candy bar with a muttered thank-you.

Scuba graced her with an exaggerated bow and a smile before turning to Cell. "Stay here and guard the civvies with Sergeant Taylor. The army is making its push across West Gate Bridge and along the highway any minute now. Phalanx and Zulu will move in to support them. There aren't many _xenos_ left, but they're all around Fishermans Bend."

"Babysitting, huh?" Cell mused as she dug a cigar from her vest. "Roger that, Cap'n." She turned to regard Dana who was now enthusiastically chomping down on her Snickers. "You wanna come down now, kiddo?"

"No!" Dana shouted with a mouth full of chocolate. She hunched down and wrapped her arms around Renzol's helmet. "I don't wanna! Steel Lady's the best!"

The operatives burst into laughter at her earnest response. Cell looked from the child to Renzol with affection. The MEC trooper remained stoic and calm, but Cell could swear she saw the slightest of smiles dancing on the archer's lips.


	72. Chapter 72: Last dance

Chapter 72: Last dance

3rd of January, 2016

XCOM Asia HQ

Operative's Mess

New Year's Eve had come and gone with its celebrations. There had been no new attacks since Boxing Day, and the off-duty operatives had made the most of it. The mess was sparsely populated and quiet as people recovered from the latest night of drinking. Merlin was sitting alone at the counter, a cigarette smoking between her fingers. She let the banter from the lounge wash over her as she stared off into the distance. She had made her decision.

"But man, that op in Liverpool was something else. Wolfer went fucking _ham_ with that flamethrower!" Jbowles said, drawing a smile out of the MEC trooper. A small group of operatives were sitting on the couches and armchairs surrounding a low wooden table.

"That goddamn weapon… it's something else alright," Wolfer said from his place at the sofa next to Daishi. He could still remember the brightly burning anger and cruel satisfaction as the mutons and floaters had been consumed by flames. He reached a hand out to absentmindedly massage the alloy bars of his new left arm. The phantom pain was but a distant throb. It was manageable. For now.

Hypergeek shifted in his armchair. "Rushing out against orders like a mad dog," the engineer said, taking a puff from his fat cigar. Hypergeek's smile looked more wry to Wolfer than anything else, and he regarded the engineer warily.

"So nothing new then!" Kilroy shouted. The assault was laid back in an armchair, one leg thrown over the armrest as she grinned at Wolfer.

Wolfer's wary look shifted to a challenging smile as he turned to Kilroy. "Watch your fucking mouth, Kilroy," he said, flexing his mechanized arms.

"Bring it you piece o' scrap! I'll put you in the goddamn junkyard!"

The back-and-forth between Wolfer and Kilroy continued to escalate. Petete, who had been silently standing on the edge of the group, leaned in. "Daishi?" the engineer asked.

"What is it, Pete?" Daishi replied with a friendly smile, ignoring the squabbling duo.

"Can you really feel with those hands?"

Daishi looked from Petete to her open palm. Even weeks after the surgery, there was a glimmer of wonder in her eyes as she reached out and touched the wooden surface of the table before her. "Yes. I can feel every crevice and edge. Warmth and coldness. I still expect to see blood whenever I prick my finger. It's incredible. Sometimes, it makes me feel like nothing's changed." _Even though everything's changed._ The thought made Daishi shift uncomfortably.

"Can you draw?"

Daishi laughed at Petete's question. "Not really. Though I suppose not being able to draw in the first place has something to do with that!" Petete smiled ever so slightly at the jest.

Daishi fell quiet for a moment as she stared at her hand. Wolfer and Kilroy had settled down, and Daishi spoke in a quiet voice, "The muscle memory is still there. Writing my name for the first time… I don't know how to describe it. It's like I almost knew what I was doing. The tenth time was a lot easier. Now, I can do it ninety-nine times out of a hundred. But sometimes, it's like I forget. Like I try to draw with my old hand. And nothing but a jagged line comes out."

The gathering was silent for a moment before Daishi looked up at Petete, smiling sunnily once again. "But practice makes perfect, right?" A look of realization passed over Daishi's eyes. "Why do you ask?"

Petete shrugged, "Just curious."

Orgun stumbled into the mess through the open door. The Irishman took a swig from his coke bottle. "What's happenin', chums?" he said, followed by a massive belch.

Kilroy wrinkled her nose at him. "For fuck's sake Orgun, lay off that shit. You're getting fat, lardass."

The rocketeer laughed heartily. "Tain't no coke, sweet lass o' mine." Orgun dropped himself down on Kilroy's armrest, and the assault pulled her leg away with a cuss. Orgun leaned against Kilroy and she snagged the offered bottle, taking a long drink.

Kilroy's face twisted as she jerked the bottle away from her lips. She swallowed laboriously, and Orgun let out another laugh at her grimace. "Jesus fuck, man!" Kilroy finally managed to cough up. "You ever heard of half-and-half?"

Orgun beamed down at her. "'Tis a secret recipe o' mine. 'Rum, rum, rum, an' a wee bit o' coke' I call it!"

"Some fucking bartender," Kilroy muttered.

Orgun turned to the rest of the group. "Ya heard the craic?"

"Who hasn't?" Kilroy answered.

The Council had kept XCOM's existence a secret for over nine months now. The rumors had been going around since the beginning of the great conflict: rumors of an elite force that took the fight to the aliens all over the globe. Blurry photos and videos taken with phone cameras. Independent news reports from the scene of an intense urban firefight. The Council Nations had kept their national news networks on a short leash, and the majority of the reporting had been kept under the wraps. That was, until the end of December.

The photos of two and a half meters tall roboticized human combatants had spread around the world like a wildfire. The Council had found it impossible to weather the storm that had been brewing for nine months now. Last night, a high ranking spokesperson from the Council had gone official across hundreds of news networks. XCOM was a secret no longer.

"Ya reckon we'll finally get some love?" Orgun asked.

"Damn well better. After all we've done for the people." Wolfer spoke the words, but deep down inside he knew it was all bullshit. Fighting was the only thing he knew. Everything he had done, he had done for himself.

"Well I guess we'll see. The cat's finally outta the bag," Kilroy said.

A cynical laugh made the operatives turn to Hypergeek. The engineer was shaking his head, the smoke from his cigar creating an ethereal halo around him. "You people can't possibly be so _naïf_. They're already blaming us. Saying we escalated this _conflit._"

"Oi, downbuzz! Turn that frown around will ya?" Orgun dismissed the unamused look from Hypergeek with a smile. The Irishman had ignored Kilroy's personal space and was quickly sinking into the sliver between her and the armrest. He wiggled and squirmed his way in deeper until finally, Kilroy had had enough. The assault sprung out of the chair and Orgun slumped into the pre-warmed seat with a satisfied grunt.

"Fuck you, you pizza-shit!" Kilroy hissed while re-adjusting her tank top.

"Hey, c'mere ya skank! Give Uncle Orgun a kiss!"

Kilroy promptly responded to the rocketeer's outstretched hands with the finger. Shaking her head, she left the group with a tiny smile on her lips. She headed across the mess and over to the counter where Merlin was draining cigarette after cigarette. The ashtray before her was already packed, and the infantrywoman snuffed out another one, leaving the crooked butt sticking over the edge.

"What are you doing here all by yourself?" Kilroy greeted Merlin, seating herself on the stool next to her.

"What's it look like?" Merlin offered Kilroy the pack.

Kilroy grimaced, torn over the offer. "No thanks. On again, off again. You know how it goes."

Merlin's laugh was a dry, rasping cackle. "Not for me it ain't. Just embrace it. What's the harm in a little cancer when the world's gone to shit?"

"Damn, somebody's cynical today."

"Only today? Come on, Kilroy. You know me better than that."

Kilroy shrugged. Merlin had uncharacteristically passed up on the drinks last night and Kilroy hadn't seen her at dinner, even though today had been one of the anticipated pizza days. Kilroy examined Merlin warily. There was something in the way the Mexican carried herself that set off alarm bells inside Kilroy's head. Merlin's back was straight and her body was tense, but her eyes didn't match the rest of her demeanor. Those eyes were weary and a little melancholic. Lost and surrendered. It wasn't like Merlin at all.

"You wanna join me for supper? There's still some pizza left," Kilroy offered in an attempt to cheer her friend up.

"I'll pass."

Kilroy forced a smile. "What, turning down pizza? You feel ok? Are you fasting or something?"

Merlin didn't respond. Instead, she dug another cigarette from her pack and lit up. Kilroy's eyes slowly widened as the realization struck. "Merlin–"

The infantrywoman's hand shot out, grabbing Kilroy's wrist painfully. Merlin's eyes had a spark of their old fire in them as they drilled inside Kilroy. "_Don't_. Tell anyone."

Kilroy answered Merlin's intense stare, agape. Finally she managed a nod and Merlin let her go, turning back to whatever distance she saw beyond the racks of liquor bottles. Reeling, Kilroy reached for the cigarette pack. Merlin offered her light and Kilroy inhaled deep. The two friends sat in silence for a while longer, deaf to the pointless chatter from the lounge.

"Why?" Kilroy's question was quiet and discreet, and it hung heavily between the two of them.

Merlin frowned. "Why not? You heard the brass. We need two more MEC troopers. Might as well be me."

"That's a shitty fucking reason," Kilroy said in a sullen voice.

Merlin cackled cynically. "Maybe. But who else is gonna do this? One of those kids? Squint?" She laughed again. Shaking her head, Merlin's voice quieted to a whisper, "It's all gone to hell, Kilroy. Ever since Foogs died. And after Daishi and Soylent?" Merlin's eyes went distant as she remembered the operation, and everything that had followed. "I'm already fucked up, Kilroy. An old, cynical bitch with nowhere to go. Might as well head for the chopping block. Let these kids have their future." Merlin took a drag from her cigarette. She was shaking a little, with only the faintest of wet glimmers in her eyes.

Another moment of silence passed between them as both women smoked their cigarettes. "Why didn't you tell us?" Kilroy finally asked, sticking the butt of her cigarette in the overcrowded ashtray.

Merlin gestured between them. "Because of this. I've already made up my mind."

Kilroy sighed. She shouldn't have expected anything else.

"Kilroy?"

"Yes?" The assault turned to look at Merlin. The infantrywoman had regained her composure, and she looked almost back to her usual self as she met Kilroy's eyes.

"Can you clear the room from nine to… at least half past ten? I'd like some time alone."

Kilroy nodded without a moment's hesitation. "Sure thing."

Merlin extinguished her cigarette. "Good talk," she said with a wry smile. Kilroy couldn't help but grin at the delivery seething with cynicism and self-irony. Seeing Kilroy's expression made Merlin soften a little. "Well I've got things to do, places to be. See you."

Rising from her stool, Merlin was interrupted by Kilroy grabbing her in a tight embrace. "Good hunting, sister," she said.

Merlin's smile turned rueful. There was a time months ago when she would've been glad to have Kilroy call her that. Now, it only made her feel worse. She didn't need her last-minute pandering. Swallowing her flaring anger and frustration, Merlin patted her friend on the back before leaving without another word.

The early evening was approaching eight o'clock, and Merlin headed towards the gym. She wanted to get one last workout in. Her surgery was scheduled for the small hours, so she had begun her fasting in the afternoon. She would regret the workout right before the operation but for now, she was still strong enough. She changed into her exercise gear and stepped into the gym.

The hall was empty, and Merlin thanked God for that. She wasn't particularly religious, but old habits die hard. She knew Cell wouldn't be starting her evening workout for at least another hour, but it was quite common for someone to still be training by eight.

Merlin started with the leg press, doing a short warmup before going for her routine sets. The burn in her thighs and ass was exquisite. She had always loved working out her lower body. For a soldier, the goal was to gain endurance to carry yourself and your gear on the battlefield. For a woman, it had the wonderful side effect of a shapely and tight bottom. Merlin groaned under the weights as her workout neared its conclusion. As much as she would've loved to push herself to the limit, she made herself stop short; she still had other plans for tonight. Wrapping up the exercise, she took her time stretching out.

Next up were her arms. Merlin did the whole set, from shoulders to triceps and bicep curls. Her mind and body were on fire as she felt the intense burn. The moment she stopped would mark her last rep. Her last rep ever. The thought goaded Merlin on. She pushed past what should have been possible, and by the time she laid down the bar, she had lost count. She didn't know whether she had surpassed her record, and she didn't care. It seemed strangely fitting that the exact number was lost on her.

Drenched with sweat, Merlin stumbled her way into the showers. The cool water washed over her body in waves. Her tense and screaming muscles slowly relaxed, and Merlin simply enjoyed the sensation on her skin. It cleared her mind of everything. For a moment, she was free of the future that loomed beyond the next dawn. There was only water: beating against her heaving chest, sliding down over her toned abs, dripping off the ends of her fingers. It was a moment of perfection.

By the time Merlin returned to Room Alpha, it was already quarter past nine. She opened her locker and tossed her towel over the door to dry. There was a mirror on the inside of the locker door, and Merlin stopped to take in the sight of her reflection. The wrinkles around her eyes were more pronounced than she had remembered. She looked past her thirty-six years. Back in her young days, she had thought her life would be over by the time she reached forty. The memory brought an abrupt laugh out of her. She didn't know whether it was cynical or heartfelt anymore. Merlin doubled over as her guffawing intensified. Tears ran down her cheeks as she howled with laughter, her abdomen clenching painfully now.

"It's not… it's not that funny," she finally managed to gasp, followed by another sputtering laugh. Settling down, she wiped her cheeks and eyes dry. She hadn't meant to cry, even out of amusement. It would make the next part a lot harder.

"Fuck you," Merlin told her reflection. The look on her face drew another laugh out of her, and the absurdity of it all almost made her burst into another fit. Gaining control of herself, she reached for her personal items. She turned on her iPod's speaker and started up her favorite upbeat pop playlist.

Her makeup hadn't seen use in ages, but it wasn't a skill one forgets that easily. Foundation and concealer covered up Merlin's newly found wrinkles while also smoothing out the rough patches on her cheeks. Eye shadow, mascara, and black eyeliner gave her eyes an intense quality, even more so than they naturally had. She defined her eyebrows to match her eyes and topped it off with scarlet red lipstick and red nail polish. Her wild thicket of reddish-brown curls had always had a mind of its own, and Merlin only applied a little bit of hair spray.

Merlin was smiling with excitement now. She could hear the pumping of club music and smell the dark, passion-filled nights of the early 2000's LA. She had been quite the sight on the dance floor back in her days. Rave, electro, and the grinding to generic club music. Spanish flamenco and Argentinian tango at more refined events. It had become harder and harder to keep her hobby once she'd joined the military and started climbing ranks. Over the past few years, she had stopped dancing almost completely.

Merlin stripped off her clothes and slipped into lacy lingerie. Her red flamenco dress was still where she had unpacked it. The hem of the dress was just shy of the floor in her heeled dancing shoes. Merlin pulled the dress on. She hadn't thought it would be this hard. Her heart was beating faster as she fastened the strap around the back of her neck. Taking a few tentative steps, she reached for the iPod and selected the song.

The clear voice of a Spanish man accompanied by acoustic guitar streamed into Room Alpha. The pace was slow to start off with, and Merlin backed away from the locker. She spread her arms and let out a long, shaky breath. She swayed to the slow music, her hands drawing shapes in the air around and above her. She gave her skirts a lift, and the billowy material flowed around her. The guitar slowly picked up pace. The metal floor was far from ideal, but it would have to do.

The singing caught intensity with the guitar, and Merlin's heels clacked to the floor. Her legs were aching from the workout, but the muscle still remembered. Merlin's movements intensified as the music took her over: her hands held up her skirts as her heels pounded the floor. Keeping the dance up, she let go of her dress, letting it swirl around her as she traced eloquent shapes in the air with her hands. Her head tossed from side-to-side, causing her curls to fly wilder. The guitar grew ever more frantic and Merlin danced her heart out; the dress a whirlpool of red around her, and her hands an expression of pure and unbridled passion.

The guitar finally died down, leaving only the intense howling of the singer. The pace would slowly pick up again, but Merlin could take no more. She hung her head low, her face covered by a curtain of curls. Her breathing was abrupt. An iron fist clenched her insides, leaving a heavy feeling of urgency in the pit of her stomach. But through it all, brighter than the anxiety, she burned with passion. It was what dancing had always been about for her. Her heart was racing like never before. There was still one more thing left to do.

Merlin looked up with shaken eyes. She had to move, and she had to move now. She started towards the door, only to realize the attire she was wearing. Quickly turning around she dashed to her locker, almost tripping on the way. She shut down her iPod and tore off the red dress, replacing it with a tank top, standard BDU pants and boots. The black lace of her push-up bra peeked around the edges of the tank top, but Merlin didn't care. She slammed her locker shut and took off into the corridors.

Merlin's breathing was ragged as she hurried through the barracks. The apprehension was mixing in with her desire, overwhelming her mind. She needed this. One last time, she _needed_ this. There was ever only one destination for her as Merlin half walked, half ran through the corridors and into the officers' wing. She pounded on the door and after a moment, it opened.

Awo stood in the doorway. A look of surprise came over him as he noticed it was Merlin. "Hey Merlin. Wasn't really expecting you," he said. The Major's eyes widened as he properly took in Merlin's visage.

"Hey. I need a favor." Merlin's voice was strained and to-the-point. She seemed to be out of breath, and Awo regarded her curiously.

"Sure. Come in."

Merlin stepped inside. She paced a quick circle around the room, running her hands through her hair. Awo closed the door behind them. By the time he turned to face the room, Merlin was standing before him.

"What's this about?" Awo asked. There was no trace of their usual back-and-forth in his voice; he sensed this was something important.

Merlin didn't answer with words. She pushed Awo against the door and reached to her tip-toes, pressing her lips over his. Awo's eyes widened, and he grasped Merlin by her shoulders, pushing her away.

"Whoa, Merlin! What are you—"

"Shut the fuck up. For once in your life, just shut the hell up Awo! Do this for me."

Awo stared down at Merlin, wide-eyed. Her eyes were burning: not with love or affection, but with passion. There was something profound in her eyes, something primal. Something so very powerful. Awo's nostrils flared as he took in the sight before him. It had been too long for him too. Merlin saw the confirmation in his eyes and reached for another kiss. To her surprise, it was Awo who grabbed hold of her, lifting her up in the air and pushing her against the wall. Merlin latched onto him and let her instincts take over.

Merlin saw the rest of the night through a wildly flying veil of red curls. Lips on lips, skin on skin: two bodies coming together as one. Her legs closed around Awo, and her nails raked deep crevices across his back in one last, desperate cling to her life and body soon forever changed.

By the time dawn came, Merlin was already long gone into surgery.


	73. Chapter 73: The Arrival

Chapter 73: The Arrival

24th of January, 2016

XCOM Asia HQ

Psionics preparation room

There was a breath of change in the air.

Hypergeek could feel it; something gnawing at the edges of his consciousness. Something dark and sinister, approaching right over the horizon. The engineer frowned as he shuffled through the psionic soldier files on the podium before him. He was in the small annex adjacent to the psionics laboratory. His hands were concentrated on the paper work but his mind was only partially in it. That didn't mean he wasn't focused on the task: Hypergeek had been working on separating his mind and body. He had lately become exceedingly proficient at dividing his attention between multiple tasks.

Hypergeek raised his eyes off the notes. Within his mind he was sitting in a luxurious armchair. The television showed re-runs of R.S.C. Anderlecht's championship games. The apartment was modest in size but decorated with style. Photographs lined the television stand. A glass of whiskey and a smoking cigar sat atop a small mahogany side table. Something pushed against Hypergeek's hand, and he absentmindedly scratched Beaumont behind its ears.

The base for Hypergeek's inner sanctum was built around the apartment he had lived in after divorcing his wife eight years ago. Bits and pieces were taken from different times in his life: His portrait from GIGN. The fireplace from the cabin they stayed at while on honeymoon. Some of the carpets had been his mother's.

Even as he continued to work on the training schedule, Hypergeek was far from the psionics preparation room. The engineer turned to regard the one thing that was so out of place within his mind. An old and scratched dresser stood next to the hearth. A heavy folding knife stood defiantly in the rough wood. Hypergeek reached a hand up to massage his clean-shaven chin.

Hypergeek knew what had influenced him to create this place of rest within his mind. It wasn't the same as the apartment he had visited in Soylent's mind, but the principle was the same. As to why the dresser and knife were there, Hypergeek didn't quite know. He hadn't created them himself. He knew he could remove them easily, but that didn't feel right. Staring at the knife got Hypergeek thinking.

Six times over three days he had visited Soylent in the detention cell. The first visit had just been a check-up on the recovering gunner. Something between them had made Hypergeek come back. Soylent hadn't asked him to, nor had Hypergeek offered his help. He had simply returned the next day and started talking. Hypergeek had assured himself it was only because of how he had seen so much of Soylent without her consent. Soylent deserved to know him just as thoroughly.

It was only half the truth. There was a connection between them, one Hypergeek had felt in a profound way. He couldn't recall most of the conversations. Looking back on them, he wasn't even certain they had talked half the time. They had both shared things they had never divulged to anyone else, and it had made them stronger. But once she had recovered, their meetings had ended. It had been easy for Hypergeek to convince himself that he had only imagined the connection. He had just been checking up on an injured comrade.

The howling of wind disrupted Hypergeek's thoughts. He perked up in his armchair and looked towards the window. He hadn't set the weather for today. The engineer frowned as he got up to look outside. A sea had appeared around him. The waves were low, and dark clouds brewed in the distance. Hypergeek let out a sigh of discontentment and concentrated. The sea disappeared and the winds died down. The last gale brought with it heavy and humid air, and the pungent odor of ozone.

There was a breath of change in the air.

* * *

"Oh for fuck's sake, Scuba! No one asked to see your tits!" Cell's outcry only made Scubaman grin wider.

The Latino leaned over, making his tight pectorals dance playfully. Cell dismissed him with a snort, but there was a distinct smile on her lips. The gunner was lying down in her bottom bunk close to the door and as Scuba pranced closer she jumped up, promptly discarding her magazine. Scuba was only slightly taller than the gunner and Cell easily repelled his attack with a firm shove. The captain theatrically spun around and around, back to the next set of beds where Orgun and Morgan were sitting on the lower bunk.

Cell headed for the door. "You guys keep this _idiota._ I've got business." Cell's affectionate use of Spanish insults always made Scuba grin from ear-to-ear, and the three operatives bid their goodbye as the gunner pushed out of the room.

"So what about this new toy? How the fuck does a new heart help you kill aliens?" Morgan asked from the foot of the bunk.

Scuba turned around, smiling down at Morgan the way one might smile at a somewhat slow kid. A neat scar ran down his chest. "Oh Morgunner, this has nothing to do with the aliens. You see, one heart wasn't enough for _El Zorro_ to love Earth with. So they gave me a second one: one for Earth, and the other one for all its lovely ladies!"

Orgun burst into guffawing laughter, offering a hand to his friend. Scuba accepted the high five with a grin, but Morgan wasn't convinced. The assault's expression was doubtful as she wheeled her head from side-to-side.

"I doubt that'll work out for ya. I know I wouldn't want a man with the heart of a muton. Who knows what other parts you've gotten augmented. I don't really fancy a thin man dick. Not that it would be much of a change." The distasteful joke made both men roar with laughter, and Morgan grinned.

Orgun was the first one to recover. "Ya should give me a feek then, lassie. No gene-bollocks, pissin' MELD, or mindfuckery. One hundred percent orgunic, I am!"

Morgan's face dropped at the pun. Orgun burst into uncontrollable laughter at his own wit, sweeping Scuba along with him. Morgan's booing only made their howling intensify. It took them a good minute to calm down. Eventually, it was Scuba who straightened with a jolt.

"_¡__Dios Mío!_ I've fucked up! Sorry guys, gotta run!" Scubaman said while grabbing his tank top from the top bunk. He pulled the shirt over his head as he departed, followed by a long profession of love from Orgun. As the door slammed shut behind the captain, Orgun turned his eyes to Morgan. The assault recognized the mischievous glimmer in them. She grabbed the pillow from behind her and slammed Orgun with it, making the rocketeer cry out in dismay.

"Don't ye be fecking playin' with me!" Morgan shouted as Orgun attempted to cover himself from the relentless assault.

* * *

Hunterhr flipped to a new page. Two pictures of supernovae broke the thick and arduous text. Hunterhr had devoured his book on basic astronomy three times over before this new order had arrived with the rest of the outfit's mail. Lying down in his rack and delving into the mysteries of the universe had become a nightly tradition for him.

Ever since his awakening, the psionic medic had found himself fascinated by space. An endless void with marvels and phenomena far exceeding simple human understanding: wormholes that inexplicably bent spacetime, black holes from which not a single photon or gamma ray can escape, new stars born out of cosmic dust, an infinite number of planets in an infinite number of galaxies; these concepts haunted Hunterhr both awake and asleep.

Hunterhr's eyes wandered off the text and back to the first image depicting a star dying in vibrant, multi-colored hues. Hunterhr's breathing slowed. A nebula of crimson and deep violet, one star pulsing vividly within the picture. Hunterhr's eyelids slowly drooped down, and the pages no longer existed for him as the vastness of space spread out all around him.

Hunterhr's consciousness separated from his body. He found himself staring at the stardust of the nebula. Endless clouds in varying hues of crimson sprawled across the blank canvas of the universe. The blinking of a pulsar caught Hunterhr's eye; deep purple, fading in and out of view ever so often. It was the eye of a great beast. The nebula's clouds formed the undeniable shape of a lion's head. Hunterhr marveled at the sight before him. This was only a fraction of the wonders that awaited beyond.

A shiver passed down Hunterhr's spine. Something was wrong. He turned around in a daze. He had no shape or form, but the movement was arduous regardless. The nebula was left behind him as Hunterhr laid eyes on a sea of purple stars.

Thousands upon thousands they stretched on before him. The sight reinforced Hunterhr's mind, and the daze began to lift. Focusing on the stars, Hunterhr felt control return to him.

The shadow arrived from the right. A single star disappeared. But with every passing moment, more and more of the gleaming purple was snuffed out. Hunterhr felt the daze return as control slipped away from him. The shadow fell upon him, gripping him in a frightening chill. Ten thousand more stars were swallowed by the void. The shape was enormous, unlike anything Hunterhr had ever encountered. Only a small sliver of purple was left, and Hunterhr felt his throat close up as what little control he had left him. He stared into complete darkness. Nothing was left. Hunterhr gasped for air but found none. He would suffocate, alone in the vastness of space.

Hunterhr opened his eyes with a gasp. The clock on the wall carried on in its steady ticking and tocking. The medic cleared his throat; it was dry as parchment. The book resting on his chest was heavy. He pushed the tome away. His head was fuzzy and covered with sweat. Bringing his hands up, Hunterhr gently massaged his temples.

The memories slowly swam back to him. The nebula and the pulsar. The stars, and the shadow. Concern filled Hunterhr's mind. His Gift hadn't acted like this since his awakening. Looking up at the clock, Hunterhr froze in place.

Ten past nine. He had lost at least an hour. Gingerly, Hunterhr pushed up to a sitting position. A dark premonition had taken a hold of his gut, refusing to let go.

Something was coming. Something with a shadow large enough to drown out an entire galaxy of stars.

* * *

"Where the hell is Scuba? Never mind, we'll start without him. Major Van Doorn?"

Medve's voice boomed through the small officer's mess. Calling the space a mess was an overstatement: it was little more than a glorified coffee room. The officers had never seen it as a problem. XCOM was one huge family, and one proper mess for the operatives was more than enough.

"Very well then. Operative Soylent Green, step up," Van Doorn said with seriousness bordering on comical. The Major, Captain Medve, and recently promoted Lieutenant Volatile were sitting on one side of the wooden table. They all kept up a serious façade, but there was a glimmer of humor in their eyes.

Soylent stood in attention atop a chair before the council of officers. Her face was badly scarred after the fateful UFO Operation Cold Crone: the right side was covered in patches of rough skin. A mountain range of scars ran over the bridge of her nose and across her left cheekbone. The corner of her right eye was drooping a little. As Soylent stared at the wall above Van Doorn, she felt her eye twitch. A single tear rolled out. Soylent had begun to get used to it, but she silently cursed the timing regardless.

Van Doorn cleared his throat, "Repeat after me, Operative Soylent Green."

Soylent raised her right hand and repeated after Van Doorn as the major read out the oath:

"I, Soylent Green – do hereby affirm and avow – to uphold the ideals of the XCOM officer cadre – namely those of xeno fucking, and alien slaughter. My boot shall be firmly planted in the NCO's ass – when it is not lodged inside a muton's. The pilots shall tremble before my passing – and the base security will salute me – not only for my rank – but for the songs sang of my deeds.

Through plasma and elerium – I will lead my men by example – and not a single civilian shall die – as long as I still breathe. When the time comes – I shall draw my last breath for a free Earth – not with regret and fear – but with joy and dedication – for I shall spend the rest of my days in the Hall of Heroes – where the flow of bourbon never stops – and the xeno fucking is never ending. Vigilo Confido."

The coffee room broke into thunderous applause as the officers welcomed a new lieutenant into their ranks. An excited voice shouted from the door, "Lieutenant Flash Green! _Papi's_ girl is all grown up now!"

Soylent grinned down at Scubaman as the Latino strode to the table. "Sorry I'm late, _mi amigos_. Let's get this show on the road!" The infantryman pointed at Medve, and the big man grabbed a bourbon bottle and a tower of shot glasses from the table. He set out five glasses before Soylent and filled them to the brim with cheap, hazy bourbon.

Soylent shook her head and let out a nervous chuckle as the rest of the officers goaded her on. She drew in a sharp breath, letting the air out forcefully. Bending over, she took the first shot glass. Her audience quieted as she stared at the liquor.

"To xeno fucking!" Soylent raised her glass to roaring approval, downing it in one go. Booze spilled over from the rest of the glasses as Soylent slammed the empty one down with a grimace.

"To alien slaughter!" The second shot disappeared down Soylent's throat, and Scuba's excited cheering led the audience.

"To boots in asses and all that good stuff!" This time, the officers burst into roaring laughter.

"To the men and women I'll lead on the battlefield!" Soylent's head was beginning to spin, but she downed the shot regardless. She almost tipped over as she slammed down her glass, drawing more laughter from her peers. Picking up the last glass, Soylent's expression went solemn. The officers quieted down as she finally lifted her glass.

"To my last breath and a free Earth. _Vigilo Confido_."

"_Vigilo Confido,"_ the rest of the room responded, and Soylent downed the shot. The liquid burned fiercely on its way down, and Soylent squeezed her eyes shut. Finally, it was all done and Soylent slammed the glass down on the table. The cheers were deafening.

"_Lieutenant Flash! Lieutenant Flash!" _the officers chanted as Soylent straightened her back once again. Her head was spinning as she looked down at the smiling faces below her. Medve had rounded the table and held up a cigar for her. Soylent grabbed it eagerly. Before the captain had the time to offer her cutters, the lieutenant had produced her folding knife. The leather of the handle was rough in her fingers as she deftly sliced the end of the smoke off with a rolling motion. Grabbing the knife firmly in her fist, Soylent slammed it down onto the table, resulting in exclamations of surprise and approval.

Soylent accepted the light from Medve and inhaled deep. The smoke rose right to her head, making her reel on the makeshift pedestal. She was no longer in the spotlight as the rest of the officers were slapping each other on the back, pouring drinks for everyone; Soylent had gotten a good head start, and no one was about to lose to the green officer.

Closing her eyes, Soylent enjoyed the flavor of the cigar. The bitter, burning taste of bourbon still lingered in her mouth and as Soylent lifted the cigar to her lips, something came over her.

The sensation wasn't quite déjà vu. She briefly felt the cigar on rougher lips, the burn of whiskey in a throat more hardened by years of smoking. The feeling passed as quickly as it had come, but it left Soylent thinking of Hypergeek.

She had almost looked him up a week after her discharge from detention. She had turned around on the door to Charlie, convinced she had just imagined the connection between them. Now, she wondered why she hadn't gone through with it. Surely she could just walk up to him and ask how he felt? It wasn't like they were some awkward teenagers; they were both adults, and it was so hard to find good friends who understood you these days. _Maybe I'll pay him a visit tonight._

An abrupt laugh burst forth from Soylent's lips. Smiling ruefully, she shook her head. _That's the liquor talking, girl. What the hell do you think will happen if you ask THE Hypergeek to play with you?_ She could already hear his snooty, mocking French laughter. Soylent swayed, eyes closed. By the time she opened them, she found Scuba grinning up at her.

"What's so funny, Lieutenant? Dreams of promotions already?"

Soylent descended from her chair gingerly. The shots were hitting her in full force now, and the movement only made it worse. Grabbing the table for balance, she laid herself down in her chair. "That's Colonel Green to you, Captain," she deadpanned, making Scuba's mouth go wide as he glanced around the room in exaggerated shock.

"Somebody page Colonel Awo in the medbay! We've got a badass coming for his job over here!" Scuba's jest resulted in more laughter. Soylent returned the smile before resting her head in her hands.

It would be a long night.

* * *

Wolfer's face was twisted in rage as he struck the punching bag. His augmented metal arms ended in steel fists, and the force behind his flurry of strikes was inhuman. The red bag swung wildly under the MEC trooper's unceasing assault. The motion was powered by elerium, and his arms no longer grew tired under the intense exercise.

A primal shout left Wolfer's lips as he struck one last time. The punching bag came swinging back at him, and the Marauder stopped its motion with his massive frame. A grunt left his lips as the hard leather connected with his midsection. Leaning against the bag, Wolfer panted hard. His forehead was glimmering with sweat, and the loose tank top clung to his back. His training outfit was finished off by baggy red gym shorts.

From across the room, Amineri and Ratamacue eyed the MEC trooper warily. The infantrywomen had been sparring when Wolfer had entered the martial arts room. They had been taken aback by the ferocity the Marauder showed in his training. Wolfer returned their gaze with wild eyes. The women quickly turned away from him and resumed training, although their pace spoke of avoidance rather than effort.

Wolfer turned his eyes downward. A fire burned within him, its flames licking higher and higher with each passing day. Anger at his condition, and at his inability to do anything about it. Resentment at the world that carried on regardless. Deep, unrestrained hatred at the enemy. But above all, brighter than any other flame, blazed the fires of self-loathing.

Wolfer had been _the _top dog: not a single person in the outfit could best him in a fight. There may have been the occasional fluke, but in a best of three he had prevailed against all of them. Now, he couldn't beat a woman. The thought made Wolfer choke up. He didn't want to think that way of Daishi: She was everything to him now, the only person keeping him sane and tethered to this world. They had walked through the valley of the shadow of death together. She had done everything in her power to help him since their augmentation. She was the single most important person in his life. Yet he couldn't help but think that made him weaker than her. He couldn't beat a _woman_ in a fight. The thought fueled the fire inside, and Wolfer gritted his teeth. With a muffled bark he resumed his attack on the punching bag.

Wolfer wouldn't find rest until deep into the night.

* * *

DSM spun around in her rolling chair. The scout's expression was bored beyond belief. The loud workshop was the last place she wanted to be right now. Down in the pit, engineers worked furiously on a prototype engine of a new experimental aircraft. The project ran under codename Retribution, and the propulsion system utilized sophisticated reverse-engineered alien technology. The sharp stink of burning elerium from the workbench next to her made DSM wrinkle her nose.

"Please tell me I can go. It's almost eight," DSM moaned as she kicked herself for another spin. The person by the workbench didn't respond.

Green sparks thrown by the elerium torch reflected off dark welding glasses. Petete's mouth was a thin line, speaking of her trademark concentration. But that was where the resemblance to her past work at the workshop ended. The MEC trooper's left arm was replaced by an assortment of tools: an elerium torch, a precision drill-rotary combination with alloy attachments, a flat head for hammering, and a modular screwdriver. The sight was awe-inspiring: a metal wing with crooked fingers looming over the workbench, each instrument moving in sharp and exact motions.

An orange-hued crystal sat nestled in a gleaming alloy housing. The Shogun was carving a precise groove down it with her grinder attachment. Petete felt the impact: not just with her drill, but with her mind. Her skull resonated with the frequency of the crystal, making tears rise to her eyes. There was a shape hiding underneath the surface, an answer to the puzzle the researchers and engineers had failed to resolve. She would uncover that shape, find that answer.

Petete had written down the sensations she had received from the outsider shard in her after action report months ago. She had been baffled to discover no one else had noticed it. After research into the outsider shard had increased, another two scientists had mentioned feeling something similar to Petete, though to a lesser extent. The vibrations had been identified as a signal-emitting frequency, and after countless failures by the research and engineering teams, Petete had been brought in for a hands-on approach with one of the recovered shards.

Petete had her own theory as to why she seemed to be the most sensitive to the crystal. She had always had an uncanny knack for working with machinery in all its forms: electronics, mechanics, hydraulics, and many more. The only other soldier to adapt to the MEC process faster than her was Renzol. The outsider shard was an amalgam of a semi-organic silicon-based material in crystal form and MELD. It was her Gift that granted Petete the ability to understand the bizarre, nanomachine riddled shard. Even though her psionic tests had been negative, the scientists had speculated that the Gift could manifest itself in different ways. Petete was convinced: this was her destiny.

A groan from DSM carried over the workbench. The psionic scout had been brought in to oversee the altering of the crystal. It was believed that the frequency of the outsider shard was linked to the Gift. DSM was to observe the process and report any changes, signals, or sensations she felt to Petete. The only thing she felt, however, was tedium.

Slowly, over the clanging and banging of the workshop, a tune carried over to DSM. The somber guitar was barely noticeable at first but quickly picked up. DSM's brow furrowed as she glanced around the hall. She didn't see any radios or speakers. DSM strained her ears.

Suddenly, the music changed. A shrill screech pierced DSM's brain like nails across a chalkboard. The horrific sound grew louder and louder, a perverse dissonant melody shaped underneath the chaos. DSM's hands shot to her ears as she tumbled off her chair. She didn't feel the impact of her shoulder striking the rough floor as her entire being was focused on the noise.

"Shut it off! Oh god make it stop, _please!_" She couldn't hear her own screams of terror over the drowning noise. The terrifying tune reached its apex and then, abruptly ended. Blessed silence settled into her mind. Slowly, the noises of the workshop returned to DSM.

"What's wrong?" Petete asked. The Shogun was standing over DSM, augmented arm cocked like a wing.

DSM shook her head and lifted her hand. "Help me up," she said gingerly. Her mouth tasted of iron; a cut seeped blood into her mouth. Pete pulled the scout up to her feet and regarded her warily.

"Did you hear that? That – that horrific noise?"

"No." The look of concern in Petete's eyes deepened.

DSM felt around in her mouth with her tongue. She found the wound inside her left cheek. She turned away from Pete. "Never mind. It was nothing. I'm fine."

"If you say so." Petete lowered her welding glasses and returned to the bench to continue her work.

"Say," DSM spoke, turning at the waist to look at Petete, "Are you done with that? Did you like, finish part of it just now or something?"

Petete shook her head. "No. I have a feeling I've still got a long way to go."

DSM nodded pensively at the Shogun's response. The elerium torch flared up again as Pete returned to her work. DSM felt normal now. The only reminders of the seizure were the taste of iron in her mouth and a dull ache in her shoulder. She didn't know how bad it had been, but judging by Petete's reaction, she had only fallen off her chair. DSM bit her lip in contemplation.

She would have to tell someone what had just happened to her.

* * *

Room Alpha was quiet as usual. The racks closest to the door were empty: Awo had left for the officer cadre months ago, and Merlin had gone as well following her augmentation earlier in the month. The lower bunk in the middle of the room had belonged to Foogleman. It had remained empty for a long time after the scout's death before Soylent had eventually arrived in the outfit. Now, the Australian had followed after Awo with her promotion to lieutenant. The upper bunk was neatly made, but Kungtotte was nowhere to be found. The fatherly sniper was spending his evening with Iku in the TV room.

At the back of the room, Drake and Kilroy sat on the edge of the lower bunk. Kilroy was leaning against her knees, her head hanging low. She brushed a handful of brown locks behind her ear. Her eyes were distant.

"It's too damn quiet," Kilroy muttered.

"Yeah. I wonder when we're getting fresh recruits."

"I hope never. It wouldn't be the same."

Drake gave Kilroy a quiet look at the sullen response. Now wasn't the time to poke fun at her; even the outfit's hot shot secret agent needed her time.

"Do you remember the first day?" Drake said with a smile.

"Do I!? Almost got my face punched in! How could I forget?"

Kilroy had marched into Room Alpha full of confidence in February of 2015, almost a year ago. The rest of the room's inhabitants had been unpacking their gear. All except for Foogleman. The enigmatic scout had been leaning against the end of the middle bunk, her face stone cold.

"'Sup guys? I'm Kilroy. Don't worry: you won't have a hard time remembering my name,"she had greeted them with cocksure glee. Foogleman had snorted dismissively at the performance. Kilroy had exchanged introductions with the rest of the room before she had ended up before Foogle. "Foogleman? The hell kinda name is that? What'll we call you? Hmmm, let's see… how about Foogle? Or maybe Foogs? Yeah, Foogs sounds pretty good to me!"

Foogleman's baffled expression had quickly been replaced by anger as Kilroy had rambled on. Drake had noticed the scout's balled-up fists. The shout of warning had come just in time. Awo had grabbed Foogleman from behind as she had charged at Kilroy. The poor man had gotten some hefty bruises in the ribs for his troubles. Kilroy had been eager to accept the challenge, offering to settle things on the mat.

"As far as I remember, you _did _get your face smashed in."

Kilroy smiled at Drake's comment. Foogleman had beaten her soundly in their first match. The scout's MMA had been fierce; Kilroy had managed to best her on occasion, but only after training with her.

The smile slowly died down as Kilroy looked around the room. "It's so empty. Like it's fucking dead or something." The assault laid herself down on the bed, crawling into the space between the wall and Drake until her head was resting on the pillow. Kilroy stared at the bunk above, but her eyes were looking off into some unknown distance. "Sometimes, I just want to get the hell out of here. Jump on a bike and hit the throttle until this shitty little island is a million miles in the rearview mirror."

Kilroy fell quiet, and Drake listened to the silence. She laid herself down next to Kilroy. The brunette reached out, and Drake took Kilroy's hand in her own.

"It doesn't matter how many attacks we repel. A dozen more pop up, a dozen more holes to plug with our goddamn fingers. We're winning every single battle, but we're still losing the war."

Drake only listened. Silence followed Kilroy's words.

Drake felt Kilroy's head move on the pillow. She turned to meet her sister's eyes. They were serious and tired. "Drake, don't you ever leave me. Don't you fucking dare. I'll never forgive you if you do."

Drake gave Kilroy's hand a reassuring squeeze. "Never. I promise."

Kilroy nodded slowly. She rolled her head until she was once again staring at the bunk above, and at whatever distance she saw beyond it.

* * *

Cell made her way through the corridors of the headquarters. The large gunner had her hands stuffed deep inside her pockets, and her eyes searched the cracked metal-and-concrete floor for answers.

_How the hell am I gonna do this? Maybe I should just leave it. This is dumb. I'm just making myself look like a moron._ Cell stopped in her tracks. She almost turned around.

_Get a fucking grip. You can stand face-to-face with a fucking murderous berserker but can't do this? _The thought made Cell shake her head. Her jaw was locked in place as she continued on, determined. She passed through the archway and into the officer's quarters. Some distance down the hallway, there was an inconspicuous metal plaque placed on the wall of a branching corridor. _"MEC trooper quarters"_, the sign read. Cell took the turn before the doubt inside her had a chance to re-emerge.

Six doors stood on the wall to her left. Five out of those rooms were in use, and Cell stopped by the third one. She lifted her hand, ready to pound on the door. She hesitated for a moment. The door swung open.

Cell found herself face-to-face with Renzol's surprised expression. Her friend's height still caught Cell off guard; she had been so used to looking down at Renzol. Realizing her hand was still raised, Cell brought it back and gave her ponytail a frustrated tussle.

"Hey Cell. I wasn't expecting you."

"I know. I just kinda decided to drop by," Cell said with a grimace. Things had started off even more awkward than she had feared. Renzol's eyes were inquisitive and Cell followed up, "Umm, there's actually something I wanna talk to you about. You have time?"

Renzol glanced over her shoulder, thinking. Turning back to Cell, she nodded. "I need to make a quick stop by the restroom. Wait here."

"Fine by me. Take your time," Cell said as Renzol stepped outside. The MEC trooper nodded at her again before taking off without another word. Cell entered the room and closed the door behind her.

The room was the same mold as the officer's quarters: a simple bed in the corner, a writing desk and a chair against the back wall, and a locker standing on the left. It was plain, spartan, and austere; just like its inhabitant.

Cell walked over to the desk. The surface was completely bare but for a lonely mystery novel. The bookmark between the pages was a simple piece of thick paper, jammed somewhere between pages ten and twenty. Either it was a fresh book, or Renzol didn't have much time for reading these days. Cell picked the book up and turned it around in her hands, absentmindedly scanning over the back cover. She hadn't picked up on any of the plot by the time she was finished; her mind was firmly set on the upcoming encounter. Cell laid the book down with a sigh. She turned around to lean against the desk when something caught her eye.

At first, Cell thought it was a towel hung up to dry. On second glance, she realized the burlap was too rough for a towel. Taking a step closer, she observed the cloth hanging on the wall next to the locker. The curtain was hanging from the height of her head, reaching almost all the way down to the floor. Cell tilted her head in curiosity. _What's that? _She closed the gap and grabbed the fabric.

The sackcloth parted from the right, revealing a mirror underneath. Cell frowned. She remembered Daishi mentioning something about mirrors and self-reflection, but why would Renzol have covered up hers?

_You insensitive fuck. Maybe she's not okay with her body. Hell, I'd be surprised if anyone was after what the volunteers went through._ Cell was about to let go of the cloth when something else caught her attention.

Five dents stood out of the gleaming surface of the mirror. They were located on the right side, roughly at shoulder-height. Despite the clear concave in the glass, not a single crack broke the face of the mirror. Cell frowned again, this time truly puzzled. The shape in which the dents were arranged reminded her of something, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

The turning of the lock brought Cell back from her thoughts with a start. She pulled her hand away, feeling like a little girl who was caught peeking into her father's desk again.

_Pull yourself the fuck together. It's not like you were snooping through her locker. The mirror is right fucking there._

Renzol stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. "You wanted to talk?" she asked.

Cell cleared her throat, struggling to overcome her recent shock and the gnawing apprehension that had returned. "Yeah. It's about…" Cell trailed off for a moment. If she was going to do this, she might as well jump in with both feet straight away. "It's about my daughter," Cell said, her voice steady now as she regained her resolve.

The female soldiers' eyes met, and Renzol acknowledged Cell with a slight nod. The gunner continued, "There's been no word from SA. The local government is swarming with xeno sympathizers and God knows how many thin men. But I can't just give up on her, you know? She's still alive somewhere. She has to be." Cell went quiet for a moment as her eyes grew distant. "I will find her after the war. But if anything happens to me… should I kick the proverbial xeno shit bucket… I want you to find her Renzol. No one else knows. I don't want anyone else to know." Dreading the response, Cell pushed on before Renzol had the time to say anything, "I know it's fucking dumb. What does it even matter if I'm dead? I doubt she'd even want to know I cared. Maybe she's better off not knowing what I'm willing to give my life for. Hell, maybe I shouldn't look for her at all. How do I know she even wants a mother? I know _I _wouldn't after what I did."

Cell stopped to draw breath. She was cut off by a strong voice, "I'll do it."

A smile of relief spread on Cell's lips. "Thank you," she said, and Renzol nodded once more. The MEC trooper wore a look of solid determination. It seemed to be the only emotion she showed these days. The fist of apprehension inside Cell's chest gripped her heart tighter. "There was something else," she said. Renzol nodded again.

This time, it was a lot harder for Cell to dive in. She wringed her hands for a while before realizing what she was doing. Frustrated with herself, she straightened her back and dropped her hands to her sides. Staring at the wall and standing in attention, she finally forced the words out, "You know you can talk to me right? I'm not really a great listener and I don't have shit for advice but… _fuck_." Cell's nails dug into her palms as she gritted her teeth in frustration. She struggled to put her feelings into words, and the few words she managed to form refused to come out. _Don't go somewhere I can't reach you._

"I'll keep that in mind. Thank you," Renzol said, her voice solemn.

Cell closed her eyes and let out a sigh of defeat. She didn't expect Renzol to follow up.

"Why?"

The question took Cell by surprise. She turned to meet Renzol's eyes, and the words flowed out effortlessly, without a thought, "Because you're my best friend."

The slightest look of astonishment rose to Renzol's eyes. Red flooded Cell's cheeks, and she tussled her ponytail in embarrassment.

Renzol laughed. It was a short and heartfelt chuckle, and it filled Cell's heart with relief. With the tension broken, the gunner straightened herself, stretching her back with a groan.

"Well, now that _that's_ done with, I think I'll go for a workout. You wanna join me? I could use a spotter." Cell was hopeful but she wasn't expecting much: their evening workouts had come to an end with Renzol's augmentation. The Archer seemed to be constantly busy.

Renzol shook her head. "Sorry. I'm going on a pathfinder exercise with Merlin."

Cell's mouth twitched into a small grin. "Maybe next time. You show that tramp who's boss, Master Sergeant Salty Bitch."

Renzol smiled at Cell's rough encouragement. As the gunner started towards the door, Renzol opened it for her. Cell passed her by, throwing a wave over her shoulder as she went. Renzol said goodbye and closed the door.

Cell's words echoing in her mind, Renzol turned to look at the covered mirror. There was an urge deep inside her to drop the drill and begin meditating early tonight.

* * *

Hypergeek shifted through the performance files once again. Planning the training for Prowler and Adhere was challenging; both of their gifts were still only budding. They hadn't come out strong as Hunterhr or DSM had. It would take a lot of work before they could attack the minds of the enemy like DSM, or bolster the will and resolve of their allies like Hunterhr. Hypergeek ran a hand over his neatly combed hair. It would be difficult, but Hypergeek merely saw it as a challenge.

Hypergeek frowned as he heard the winds pick up outside again. This time, they were accompanied by something else. The contact was feeble at first, but Hypergeek picked up on it instantly. The apartment he had erected within his mind collapsed at a mental command. The folding knife, the fireplace, Beaumont; the various memories and aspects of his persona lost shape so no enemy could use them against him. Hypergeek braced himself, not a single shred of who he was left outside the most guarded corner of his mind. Only his ego burned bright, his mind's eye peering off into the darkness.

The psionic storm struck him hard. Hypergeek held firm against the tide. The howling and screaming energy blasted through his mind. The assault was random and sporadic in its ferocity; it wasn't seeking him out. Raw psionic power beat against his will, glancing off and swarming over him.

Suddenly, the force was gone. Hypergeek immediately shot out his tempered will, grasping after the assailant. He only managed to catch the tail-end of the storm; a rapidly diffusing shadow and a dissonant chime. It was alien by the very definition of the word: residue left behind by a powerful mind.

Hypergeek drew his will back, closing off every angle of his mind. The apartment within would stay deconstructed for now, maybe all the way until he knew what had caused the phenomenon. The Gift could be used for wondrous things, but many of them left the user vulnerable.

Hypergeek gathered the files on the podium and headed straight for the door. Reports had to be made and personnel gathered. He didn't know what mind he had just caught a bare grasp of, but it was too powerful to ignore.

Hidden behind the dark side of the moon, an alien ship the size of a metropolis had just jumped into orbit.

The war was changing.


	74. Chapter 74: Breached

Chapter 74: Breached

26th of January, 2016

XCOM Asia HQ, First level

Eight operatives in full combat gear marched down the wide corridor adjacent to Delta Section. Open blast doors gave sight into Mission Control where Central Officer Bradford was barking orders. He was distracted from his work by the clanging MEC suits. Strike-1 was returning from deployment.

"Man, I don't fucking believe this shit. How long has it been since we got stood up?" Cell complained as she entered the armory.

"A month? Two?" Kilroy mused as she set down the helmet of her titan armor. The suit of power armor hissed and clanged as she moved, reminiscent of the larger MEC suits. The armor was painted matt black, and the neck guard made Kilroy look like she was wearing a turtleneck underneath as she grinned at Cell. "Too bad. My workout was a bit light today. I was looking forward to fucking up some xenos!"

The women shared a laugh while the rest of the squad returned their weapons to the quartermaster and her assistants. Renzol and Daishi headed over to the cybersuit stations at the far end of the room to begin removing their exoskeletons.

"Wow, you guys are back early. I wasn't expecting a turn-in for another few hours." Quartermaster Sergeant Ryder smiled at the MEC troopers in her usual playful manner.

Daishi laughed. "Me neither. Seems like the aliens didn't check in at the office today."

Renzol cleared her railgun, removing the elerium power source. She gave the weapon a quick appraisal. Old habits from turning in ballistic weapons died hard even after months of using energy weapons. She glanced around with a frown. Usually the quartermaster commanded several efficient armor technicians to help with the cybersuit check-off. None of them could be seen.

Ryder gestured to the Archer. "The techs are all off for lunch. I told you I wasn't expecting you guys for another few hours. Here," she said, taking the bulky weapon. "Launcher next."

Renzol knelt. The quartermaster finished checking in the railgun with a tap of her tablet and snap of the rack lock bar. Ryder grabbed a drill off the shelf. She placed the snub-nosed end into one of the four ports located in the corners of the Ordinance Delivery System on Renzol's scapula. She swiftly disconnected the launcher and its magazine from the cybersuit. The short Japanese woman grunted as she took the weapon in her arms, snapping it into its rack. She made a few more taps to her tablet.

"I still have cybersuit clearance for three hours," Renzol said. It was more of a statement than a question, but Ryder checked her tablet regardless.

"Until 1500 hours."

"I'll be training."

"Rog'." Ryder entered the time and Renzol's service number as the MEC trooper left the armory, cybersuit's joints hissing. The Quartermaster lifted her eyes to follow Renzol's back. "She sure loves training, huh?"

Daishi smiled. "She's dedicated. Best MEC trooper I've fought with."

There was a spark of humor in the quartermaster's eyes as she regarded Daishi. "You're too nice for a hunk of metal, you know that?" Daishi laughed wholeheartedly. "Come on," Sergeant Ryder said with a wave. "Let's get you out of that thing."

The rest of the squad was finishing up their returns to the quartermaster's minions. Orgun was loudly giving his personal thoughts on why the mission had been a false alarm.

"I'm tellin' ya, 'twas some kid who saw a funeral procession. Every 'un knows 'bout them thin men now. How ya think we get the calls?" Orgun straightened his back and changed his brogue to a prim American accent: "Tweet at OfficialBradford: hashtag alienabduction in my area! Through groundbreaking satellite technology we will trace your tweet and send a force of Earth's Finest to fight the alien menace! Let's keep Earth safe together! Hashtag alienabduction, hashtag wheresXCOM? hashtag fuckxenos!"

The Irishman's jest was met with chuckles, but Scuba dismissed him with a shake of his head. The captain dabbed a rag into some strong-smelling solvent and polished his carapace armor. "Seems like the aliens knew _El Zorro_ was en route and decided to bug out. Every sectoid knows to avoid the most dashing killer of _los xenos_ this side of the universe!"

Kilroy rolled her eyes. She was sitting down, leaning against her knees. Scubaman noticed her sullen attitude and responded accordingly:

"Kilroy, _mi amor!_ What's got you down? I know dealing death and killing aliens is your business, but there'll be more of that another day!"

Kilroy let out a sigh of exasperation. "It's this fucking suit. You know what a pain in the ass it is to take off."

Scuba's smile turned sickly sweet. "Shall I assist you?"

"How about no?"

"Oh come on, _nena_. Don't be like that."

Cell scoffed as she checked in her autorifle. "No means no, Scuba. A self-proclaimed ladies' man should know that."

Kilroy straightened her back. "That's right! Tectonic's gonna kick your ass if you try anything funny!"

"With pleasure. Doubt there'll be much left after you're done with him, though."

Scuba glanced from woman to woman with a feigned look of puzzlement as they continued their rampage. "Girls!" he tried to interject but to no avail, "You're breaking my heart here!"

"Hey, where's this fella flyin' off to? Our banter not good enough for ya?" Orgun shouted after Iku. The sniper had already signed his weapons and armor back in and was heading for the door.

Iku glanced over his shoulder with a troubled look. "I gotta piss like a racehorse."

The rest of the operatives burst into laughter at the meek response. DSM pointed a finger at him mockingly. "Is this how you always cover us? Squirming behind the scope with legs pressed together?"

Iku spread his arms defensively. "Hey, the op would've been over by now! Besides, it's 'cause I hydrated on the way back. Fuck you guys, I'll see you at lunch."

The friendly chatter continued for a while longer. Armors were half-stripped off by the time the amicable atmosphere was interrupted by rumbling earth.

DSM's head snapped into attention. "Something's wrong."

The piercing wail of a siren sent a jolt of adrenaline through the entire squad.

"The hell!?" Kilroy leapt to her feet, glancing around the armory. A red light came to life on the wall, basking the room in its pulsing glow. Through the blaring of the alarm, an automated message in a female voice sounded over the PA system:

"_Security status red. Security status red. All personnel to battle stations."_

The armory was frozen in time. None of them had been through a defensive exercise in nearly a year. The wailing of the siren filled the air before the message began to loop, only to crackle out.

"What's going on!?" Quartermaster Ryder's shout brought the operatives out of their stupor.

"Must be a drill," Cell said, but she was already heading for the weapon racks.

Scubaman took command of the situation. "I don't think so. Kit up! I want everyone in Mission Control in five minutes! _Vamonos_!" Everyone in the room snapped into action as they pulled their armor back on, tightening straps and bolting for the weapons cage. "Quartermaster! Get this cage open."

Quartermaster Ryder was grim but collected as she unlocked the weapons cage to let the operatives have whatever they could get their hands on. The action clearly pained her; she'd be re-organizing kit for weeks.

"Daishi, you need help with that?" Scuba shouted. The MEC trooper had just managed to change into her civilian augments before the alarm and was now struggling to get back into her cybersuit with the help of two privates.

"You'll just get in the way. I'll be right with you!"

Scuba picked up his gauss rifle and slammed in a magazine. He chambered a round and moved briskly to the door leading back out into the corridors. "Come on, pick it up people! Move, move, _move!_"

One by one the operatives charged through the doorway. Cell stopped to grab a medkit off the shelf on her way out. Scuba touched a hand to her back as she exited the room. He shot one last look to Daishi who was in the process of removing her leg augments.

"I'm right behind you guys. Go!" The Pathfinder barked. She was focused on equipping the cybersuit as quickly as possible. Scubaman dashed out the door.

Strike-1 had assembled in the hall, their weapons trained both ways down the empty corridor. Scubaman took point and the four operatives formed up behind him, the stomp of their boots punctuated by wailing sirens. _Security status red: hostile presence inside HQ. _The protocol flashed in Scuba's mind like a beacon. Approaching the corner that looped all the way around the armory, Scuba slowed their pace down. He gave the signal and Kilroy moved up. The squad cleared the corner quickly and efficiently before resuming their paced run for Delta Section. Reaching the open blast doors leading into Mission Control, Strike-1 cleared their angles before entering.

"Where the fuck is everyone?"

Kilroy's words were drowned out by the blaring of the alarm. The terminals and windowed offices surrounding the hologlobe were empty. Chairs were knocked over, and broken keyboards littered the ground. A discarded fire extinguisher lay nearby, glistening with blood.

"Sir! Captain!" Scubaman turned to look towards the short hallway leading down into the Loading Docks. Two men clad in the blue uniforms of base security were running towards them. Their kevlar vests were ill-fitting, and the visors of their blue ballcaps were drawn too deep over their eyes. The way they held their standard issue G36 assault rifles reminded Scuba of his first boot camp.

"Private! What the hell happened here?" Scubaman's voice was uncharacteristically intent as he questioned the blueshirt.

The soldier's eyes were wild. Panting hard, he stammered, "Sir, I don't know. It was – it was a mutiny. Some of the ATO's attacked us! We had to use force to regain control."

"Rebellion?" Scubaman exchanged looks of astonishment with his squad. "What about the central officer? Where's Bradford?"

The private's voice shook a little less as he seemed to regain control over his breathing, "We took him and the rest of the non-combats towards the emergency exit. He sent us back here to meet with you." The blueshirt's voice pitched higher as the situation truly sank in, "What do we do, sir? I've never fought aliens! I've never been in a battle!"

Scuba grabbed the man by his shoulder. "Whoa, easy there _cabrón! _Killing _los xenos_ is simple. Just shoot bullets into aliens."

A deafening clang echoed through the hall. The blast door Strike-1 had entered through slammed down. One by one, the rest of the doors were sealed off in a thunderous cacophony of beating metal, drowning out the alarms and isolating Delta Section from the rest of the headquarters.

"Oh son of a _bitch!_"

Cell's words were followed by a series of dull explosions from above that shook the entire hall. The squad dove away from the hologlobe as a torrent of metal and earth came pouring down, distorting the blue hologram of Earth. Scuba covered his eyes from the dust with a thick forearm as he crouched behind a nearby terminal.

"_Take cover! Prepare to fight!"_


	75. Chapter 75: From the Depths of Hell

Chapter 75: From the Depths of Hell

26th of January, 2016

XCOM Asia HQ, Workshop

Petete was immersed in her work. She couldn't hear the commotion over the screaming of buzzsaw on alloy; the sharp noise drowned out the world. A continuous jet of sparks reflected off the engineer's welding glasses as she cut alloy bars into the shape of a small cradle.

Petete killed the power to the saw with a simple thought. The blade spun down and she folded the extension under her prosthetic arm. The elerium blowtorch moved forward instinctively to a ready position as the Shogun pulled down her goggles with her right hand. She leaned in to observe the parts she had prepared for the Skeleton Key's platform. A smile rose to Petete's lips only to freeze in place as the sounds of the workshop finally broke through her concentration.

The shrill screech of the alarm made Petete jump up. The constant pumping and clanging of the production line down below had turned dissonant and frantic. Amidst the sounds of heavy machinery, sporadic shouting reached the upper level. Petete bolted for the railing, rising so fast she nearly wrenched the worktable from the wall. The alarm pierced her thoughts and set her on edge. She made it in five metal-clad strides and beheld a frightening sight on the assembly line floor.

The workshop was engulfed in a chaotic melee. Overall-clad engineers in hard hats struck each other down as man turned on man. The huge production line that dominated the center of the workshop strained and groaned; black smoke spilled forth from its depths as the distressed whirring and clanging of its gears and conveyors reached the breaking point.

Petete recoiled as a concussive blast shook the great hall. The sounds of the alarm were consumed by thunderous roaring. Covering her eyes, Petete stole a glance back down. The machinery was aflame, spewing a gigantic veil of thick, oily smoke into the air. Several of the figures previously fighting had been struck down: some were on their knees, coughing and struggling to stand up. Others lay motionless.

Following the explosion, the workshop seemed eerily still. The constant wailing of the alarm turned into dead background noise as Petete's shell-shocked mind struggled to comprehend the situation.

Something over the base intercom system brought Petete back to the world._ "Security status red. Security status red. All personnel to battle stations."_

_I have to get out of here. Weapon. I need a weapon._ Petete glanced around the workshop. She didn't need to look far. The alloy saw pushed forth from her augments.

Getting ready to leave, Petete recognized a familiar figure scrambling up the flight of grated stairs towards her.

"Jacen! Over here!"

The short engineer scaled the last few steps. He came to a stop before Petete, doubled over and breathing hard.

"Come. We need to go." She placed a cold metal arm over his shoulders and supported him toward the exit.

"What's… going… on?" Jacen managed through labored breathing. The collar of his usually neat shirt was twisted and torn above his overalls. He stumbled and Petete tightened her grasp on him, urging him forward.

Petete shook her head. She had no answers to give him. "Babbles?" she asked, her voice full of concern.

Jacen braced himself against the shogun. His shoulders stayed slumped and uncertain. "He… hit me," he managed to get out between gasps for air, "and grabbed me." The engineer's voice was close to breaking.

Petete noticed the bruise already forming around Jacen's neck.

He shot a glance over his shoulder. "Someone grabbed him from behind. I didn't see who." Tears cut tracks through the grime of his face. "I just ran. God, I hope he's alright."

Petete didn't respond. She couldn't find the words. She instead turned her attention to the reinforced door and put an oversized steel boot right through it. The metal hinges groaned as the door to the hallways swung open.

"Shit! The key!" Petete released the gangly boy from her grasp and rushed back to her workbench. "Go! I'll be right behind you."

Jacen disobeyed her and instead followed the clashing strides of the MEC trooper. With careful, deliberate movements, Petete picked up the Skeleton Key. It lacked its cradle, but the crystal itself was completed. The orange shard was shaped into a rectangle ending in multiple delicate slivers. Petete could feel the vibration stronger than ever now, the alloys of her augmented arm resonating with the signal. She turned to Jacen.

"I told you –"

Jacen cut her off. "I'm not going anywhere without you."

Uncharacteristically harsh words leapt up her throat but Petete swallowed them. Instead, she nodded. "Alright. Then I need you to hold this." She placed their outfit's most valuable possession in his hands. "Whatever happens, do _not_ drop it."

Jacen's eyes widened. "This is…"

"Yes. Let's go."

Jacen agreed with a shallow nod. He had never seen Petete this commanding and sharp; a soldier instead of the absent-minded tinkerer he had come to know. Taking point, Petete led Jacen out through the side entrance and into the corridors of the headquarters.

_The safest place for the crystal… what is the safest place during an attack?_

Petete ran the options frantically through her mind. The enemy would have to assault them from the surface, so the deeper they got, the safer it _should_ be. There was nothing she could do if their own people turned against her. Petete took the path that would lead down to the third level.

Petete passed under the arch of a blast door. On the right, the corridor came to an intersection several meters away. She made for the intersection when an all-too familiar blast echoed through the halls. A jet of green energy shot across the juncture. A volley of gunfire from the other side answered. Petete had the crystal to protect: she had no intention of joining the fight. Turning around, she sprang back towards the doorway.

The harsh cry of a bell broke through the constant wailing of the alarm. The blast door deployed, slamming shut with a clanging finality. Dead in her tracks, Petete simply stared at the wall of impenetrable metal, trapped. Jacen gaped, staring up at the towering Shogun with fear in his eyes.

Petete turned back to the firefight. Three mutons clad in heavy green armor strode into the intersection. The monsters fired their plasma rifles as they advanced, sending a wall of green death across the junction. The return fire had become sporadic, almost non-existent. One of the mutons turned their way and unleashed a bestial roar. Petete grabbed Jacen and pushed him into the recess of the entryway. She pinned the engineer against the blast door, covering him with her own body. A barrage of plasma whizzed past the shallow doorway, scorching the wall of the corridor and sending off the acrid aroma of melting steel and burnt stone.

Petete began counting down. Blood rushed to her head, drowning out the sounds of the alarm. _Four…_ She tensed her body, ready to jump. She lit up her buzzsaw. The mechanical tool felt as much a part of her as her own flesh and blood; ghostly tendons and muscles tensed and readied. _…Three…two… _She would have to trust in her own experience and judgment. _…One…now!_ Petete jumped out of the doorway, left arm raised.

The muton came rushing in, just as she had known it would. The buzzsaw whined as the heavy alien crashed into Petete head-on. An ear-splitting screech filled the hallway as the alien toppled the MEC trooper. The pair hit the ground and Petete grunted as her back took the brunt of the impact. The muton's own weight worked against it as the alloy saw dug deeper and deeper, eating through the armor and sinking into the soft flesh beneath. The hard screeching turned into sick slushing. The alien howled in rage as yellow ichor spewed out of the wound, dousing Petete from chest to face, blinding her and forcing the bitter blood into her mouth. The muton's trunk-like limbs flailed helplessly, serving only to drive the saw deeper. Finally, the beast was face to face with Petete. Its rage-filled pig's eyes glazed over and its howl ceased as the buzzsaw reached the back end of the armor. The tool finally buckled under the pressure, lodging into tempered metal.

Petete breathed frantically under 300 kilograms of alien meat. Her eyes watered under the frosting of pungent yellow ichor and alien guts. Pushing with all her might, she rolled the muton off her. She pulled back hard on her left arm but it didn't budge. Cursing under her breath, Petete closed her eyes and focused. She severed the connection with the cybernetic interface. The MEC trooper jerked back as the muton's corpse fell away, her arm sticking out of its gut like King Arthur's sword.

"Holy fucking shit, Pete! You alright?" Jacen blurted, offering his arm to Petete. The MEC trooper accepted the help and climbed up to her feet. A grin broke her face at the uncharacteristic curse from her friend. Jacen stared at her soiled face, aghast. Alien blood ran along the grooves in the floor, forming pools around the battlefield.

The intersection was empty for now. The alarm had ceased, but the sounds of battle were still close. A series of dull explosions reverberated throughout the halls, making the walls shake around them. They would be helpless out there. Petete grabbed Jacen's arm and led him to the end of the hallway. Opening a door off to the side, she pushed him inside a cleaning cabinet.

"What, we're going to hide here? But those two will be back! We can't stay—"

The cramped closet fell dark as Petete shut the door after her. She placed a finger over Jacen's lips, cutting him off.

"This is the best we've got. Now stay quiet," Petete whispered urgently. Her ponytail had come loose, and her bangs were caked with muton blood. Her face had an intense quality to it under the gentle orange glow of the Skeleton Key. "That crystal is more important than anything else right now."

Jacen nodded slowly. Another explosion shook the complex, making the cleaning equipment on the shelves rattle quietly. Jacen squeezed his eyes shut, closing out the horrors of the surrounding world. He was thankful the scent of cleaning products drowned out the stench of drying muton blood.

* * *

The great cavern on the third level reverberated. The reinforced bedrock ceiling groaned, sending grime down the main elevator shaft.

A hail of tiny pebbles glanced off the surface of the MEC-2 Sentinel. Renzol looked up. She had been on her way into the MEC training center on the bottom level, but her agitation from waiting for the access lift was quickly replaced with alertness. A grinding noise echoed from the elevator shaft, followed by a sudden blare of the speakers on the cave's support pillars. An automated message played over the intercom:

"_Access lift malfunction. Requesting maintenance."_

Renzol glanced at the speakers with a thin frown. The announcement repeated, but it was the control center beside the access lift that drew Renzol's attention. Its door flew open with sudden force and an engineer tumbled down the short flight of stairs. His hard hat rolled towards the edge of the lift before coming to a halt. The helmet was stained red on the side. Renzol's pulse picked up and her eyes narrowed as the second lift operator stepped into the doorway.

The engineer swayed at the top of the stairs. He held a large pipe wrench, its blunt end slick with blood. The man took a lumbering step towards his colleague, still unmoving on the metal floor.

"Halt!"

The engineer froze at Renzol's shout. He slowly turned towards the approaching MEC trooper. His eyes were milky white, rolled back into his head. The sight sent chills down Renzol's back.

The engineer launched himself at Renzol without warning or sound. The visor of the MEC-2 Sentinel closed over her face as she reacted instinctively to the attack. The wrench came down on her forearms, filling the hall with a chiming echo.

"Stand down!"

Renzol's command fell on deaf ears as the man continued his futile assault. The MEC trooper gritted her teeth and clenched her fist. She didn't dare grab him. The risk of injury was far too high. Renzol gave the engineer a firm push to the chest, sending him scrambling to the floor. He was back on his feet in no time, lunging into another mad attack.

The backhand of the MEC suit crashed hard into the engineer. A muffled grunt left his lips: it was the first sound he'd made during the entire fight. The engineer flew back into a heap on the floor. He didn't get up.

Renzol knelt next to him, cursing. The visor came off her face as she inspected the wounded engineer. Rolling the man over to his back, she was relieved to find his unsettling eyes closed. She couldn't feel for a pulse, but his nostrils flared with gentle breath.

The emergency sirens blared, causing Renzol's head to snap up. Pulsing red light filled the cavernous area as a female voice over the PA system announced security status red.

_Security status red: hostile presence inside HQ. Strike-1 to Mission Control._ Standard operating procedure flooded Renzol's mind as her training took over. Main sources of illumination were extinguished and the soft glow of red emergency lighting filled the cavern. She glanced at the two unconscious engineers. She couldn't just leave them here. With little ceremony, she bent and slung both men over her shoulders. Renzol turned towards the hallways on the left. Both would need to be deposited in the medbay before she continued on to Delta section.

The sounds of the alarm abruptly died as Renzol made her way through the hallways. No update for a stand-down came. Unease slipped inside her and settled on her stomach. She kept her pace steady, fighting the urge to take off in a heated run. The engineers dangling limply on her shoulders depended on her. Questions tumbled over themselves in her mind but she focused on the task at hand.

Renzol took the path towards the nearest junction containing stairs that lead to the second level. She stopped dead in her tracks: blast doors had sealed off the stairwell. Sirens blared briefly. The emergency lights above her dimmed before rising back to full power again. Taking a deep breath, Renzol ran the layout of the level through in her mind. She took off back the way she came.

Wherever she went, Renzol was greeted by sealed blast doors. The longer it took, the more anxious she grew. Some corridors were lit by the dim red glow of emergency lights; some were completely dark, forcing her to use the powerful headlights embedded in the torso of the MEC-2 Sentinel. The alarm was constantly ringing in some sections of the base; sometimes she could only hear its harrowing sound far-off in the distance. From time-to-time she heard isolated pockets of gunfire; it was at those moments when she had the hardest time maintaining her calm. But she bore on regardless, holding onto the men on her shoulders, not knowing if they were even still alive.

Eventually, Renzol's path took her under the barracks. The blast doors of the junction leading into the training complex were open. Relief rose in her chest. She made her way under the arch of the doorway with haste and into the white metal hall of the intersection. She took the sloping corridor that led up to the rear of the barracks; Drake's Rise it had been named after the assault's morning exercises. The polished white walls of the junction were replaced with the rough, familiar build of the barracks as Renzol started her ascent. The lights were at full power here, showering her in their orange fluorescent glow.

She made it halfway through before the patrol showed up at top. The MEC trooper tensed for a moment before she recognized the ballistic vests of her outfit. With a sigh of relief she picked up her pace. As they drew closer, Renzol recognized their faces: Katenya and Intravires, two of their newest recruits led by Lieutenant Volatile.

"Renzol! Where did you come from?" Volatile brought her small patrol to a halt in front of the MEC trooper. They were carrying standard-issue G36 assault rifles and a few frag grenades strapped onto their rigging.

"Third level. I was by the access lift when the alarm sounded."

Volatile glanced back at her troops. "That's where we're headed. The engineering team just got the doors open." The lieutenant glanced at the two men resting on Renzol's shoulders. "Contact?"

"Negative. All the doors are sealed. This was the only way out."

Volatile nodded, satisfied with the concise report. "We're going for the small arms lockers. Supplies are starting to run low. We have a casualty collection point in Room Alpha for the wounded. Report to Major Van Doorn as soon as you can. He's at the mess." The lieutenant raised her arm in a quick salute. "Vigilo Confido."

"Vigilo Confido."

The patrol took off at a paced jog while Renzol continued her steady climb up the slope. She emerged at the back hallway of the barracks. She took a left, passing by the bathrooms until she reached the first corridor housing rooms Alpha through Delta.

The floor of the corridor was speckled with blood. Empty stretchers lined the walls, alongside piles of discarded, bloody bandages. Renzol glanced in through the open doors as she passed by Charlie and Delta. XCOM personnel were lying on the bunks and hastily assembled beds; most of them gravely injured, strapped in bandages and stripped of uniform. Base personnel moved amongst them, acting as nurses. A moan of agony carried out into the hallway as a young man wearing the blue trousers of base security rolled on his bed. His brow was gleaming with sweat as he grasped onto the edge of the bunk with his left hand. Only a bloody stump ending at the elbow was left of his right. The hallway was filled with the quiet voices of the orderlies and the cries of the wounded and dying.

A pair of base personnel exited Alpha. They were carrying a body, the fallen soldier's face covered by a blue jacket. Renzol waited for them to pass before ducking through the doorway.

The room had been cleared of bunks. In the middle, two bloodied wooden tables had been pushed together to form a makeshift operating room. An assortment of medical supplies was spread across another desk to the side. AlexD sat slumped in a chair by his grim workplace. His dark features were sunken and hollow. The medic wasn't a smoker, yet he was puffing hard on a fat cigar regardless. His tank top was as dark as his skin: it was completely soiled in blood. The operative perked up as Renzol entered the room.

"Renzol." The medic's voice betrayed only slight surprise at the sight of the MEC trooper. He snuffed out his cigar in a mug and beckoned for the Archer to approach.

Renzol lowered herself next to the table without a word. AlexD grabbed the engineer from her right shoulder and laid him down on the table, followed by the second one. The medic grimaced as he saw the wound on his temple. Looking for a pulse, he shook his head ever so slightly.

"Deceased," AlexD announced. Moving onto the other man, he nodded as he found the blood still pumping through his carotid artery. "Any idea of his wounds?"

"Blunt trauma to the chest. And… mind control."

AlexD looked up at Renzol. "You did what you had to do," he stated.

Renzol nodded at the medic's words. AlexD started his inspection of the wounded engineer and Renzol turned away. Crouching under the doorway, she took off towards the mess with haste, leaving the horrors of the barracks behind.

The hallways came to life as she approached the operative's mess. Soldiers in kevlar and the blue uniforms of base security hurried to and from the makeshift command center, carrying messages and reinforcing key positions in their defense against the invaders. Renzol felt her pulse rise. She tried to calm herself, but the reality of the situation grasped her; they were losing.

"Well what are you waiting for? Get me the status on Merlin's patrol, private!"

A young blueshirt hurled past Renzol and out of the mess, Van Doorn's booming words driving him on. The major loomed over a clutter of coffee tables in the lounge. A large blueprint of the headquarters was spread out over the limited desk space. The big man noticed Renzol, and a grim smile spread over his stern features.

"Master Sergeant Renzol! Goddamn if you aren't a sight for sore eyes. First we get more medical help, and then a living tank walks into my war room. It's the Christmas I've always wanted!"

Hunterhr glanced up from his notebook at her entry. Hypergeek was seated by the table beside Van Doorn. The psionic engineer didn't open his eyes; his concentration was completely unbroken.

"Sir," Renzol replied, her hulking frame shifting to attention before the major.

Van Doorn gave his massive chin a contemplative rub. "Sitrep, Master Sergeant."

Renzol repeated the information she'd given out to Volatile. The major nodded along with her short report.

"No weapons. That's a cryin' shame. But I can still find a use for you." The major stretched his back with a groan. It was evident he hadn't left the map alone since the beginning of the attack some thirty minutes ago. Pins and shot glasses were placed over it to indicate key points in their current defense; the perimeter seemed to extend only so far from the barracks. An upside-down whiskey glass covered Delta section; Renzol's post, comprising of Mission Control and the loading docks leading to the main entrance.

"Sir."

Van Doorn finished his stretch, eyeing Renzol warily. "Something in your voice tells me I won't like this, Master Sergeant."

Renzol's voice was flat as she said, "Sir, SOP dictates I'm supposed to be at Delta section."

Van Doorn shook his head. "We're cut off from the upper level. Who knows what lies between here and there. And look at us." Van Doorn gestured around the mess. Wootastic looked up from her place behind the counter where she was organizing the defense's supplies. A scientist and a cook waiting for a message to deliver glanced their way from the back wall. Van Doorn leaned over the table and lowered his voice so that only Renzol could hear him, "You saw the wounded. Over five dozen base personnel and rising by the minute. This is our home, Master Sergeant. We have to protect it."

Renzol's jaw settled defiantly. "Sir, protocol dictates my post is at Delta. I will _not_ abandon my squad."

A sigh of defeat left Van Doorn's lips. The old soldier's hard expression softened at the mention of Strike-1. "I see I won't be able to stop you." The General's eyes grew distant. Renzol could see the internal strife in them: the struggle between rational course of action and hope, no matter how slim it may be. Van Doorn's eyes regained focus, meeting Renzol's. "You have no weapons."

"I am the weapon, sir."

A smile danced across Van Doorn's lips. "Very well. Resume your post, Master Sergeant Renzol."

Renzol lifted her massive arm in an awkward salute. "Yes, sir."

"I can't spare anyone to help. We're spread too thin. Godspeed, Master Sergeant."

"Wait."

Renzol and Van Doorn were both surprised by the interruption. Hunterhr was standing a few steps from the table. "Let me go with her, Major."

Shaking his head, Van Doorn said, "No. We need more medical personnel."

Hunterhr pressed on, "I have not assumed command from AlexD yet, sir. He will manage." Hunterhr's eyes darted to meet Renzol's for a brief moment before settling back on Van Doorn. "And with all due respect sir, you cannot send her alone. I can be of more help to her than half a squad of soldiers."

Van Doorn sighed once more, rubbing his forehead. He looked back at Hunterhr. The medic's shoulders were drawn back, and his jaw was set with determination. A knowing smile crept to Van Doorn's lips. "We all do what we must in life, don't we Gunnery Sergeant?" Van Doorn placed his hands on the table and bent over his set of blueprints once again. "Go. Grab your kit from Bonus before I change my mind."

"Sir," Hunterhr acknowledged, his eyes lit up with a smile. He started towards the bar counter, only to be stopped by Van Doorn's voice:

"Oh, and Gunnery Sergeant." Hunterhr looked back over his shoulder. "Take plenty of medical supplies. Strike-1 is going to need them before this is all done with."

"Yes, sir."

Wootastic was arranging what little supplies the defense had left at the bar counter when Hunterhr arrived. To the side, two scientists were laboriously re-bombing empty magazines. The combat engineer-turned-quartermaster straightened herself as Hunterhr arrived.

"Hunterhr! You're back! Glad you're safe. What do you need?" Wootastic's speech was rapid, her voice strung wide and tight.

"Rifle. Ammo. Medkits. Tacvest. Flashbangs," Hunterhr listed, deeply juxtaposed to Woo's anxious rattling.

"Sure thing. Just grab whatever you need."

Hunterhr began gathering his kits from the counter while Wootastic turned to the back wall. The shelves previously stocked with bottles of liquor were now filled with weapons and tactical riggings. The engineer placed a G36 assault rifle and a tacvest on the counter.

"Sorry, no more kevlar," Wootastic said. She followed Hunterhr with darting eyes as the medic prepared himself. "You believe this shit? Fucking aliens. Thinking they can just show up and tear the house down. I was just watching TV and _BAM! _Fucking mutons running through our halls. Barely made it out. Can't say the same for everyone. Poor fucking Double-U."

Hunterhr looked up from the straps of his tacvest, taken aback. He had completed his medic training program together with Doubleumc and listened to her endless chatter throughout countless mornings. She was nothing if not a friend.

"May she rest in peace," Hunterhr said and resumed adjusting his gear.

"Yeah. RIP."

Hunterhr finished kitting up in silence. The last magazines went into his rigging and he chambered a round into his rifle. He was ready.

"Hey Hunterhr. You give 'em one for Double-U."

The medic nodded. "I will. Vigilo Confido."

Wootastic didn't respond. Her head was already down, focused on organizing the kit they had left. Hunterhr strode to the door where Renzol was waiting for him.

"Keep up. I won't slow down," the MEC trooper informed the psionic medic.

"Affirmative." Hunterhr settled the stock of the assault rifle better against his shoulder, ready to sprint after the MEC. Renzol lumbered through the doorway, and the two of them were off into battle.

Van Doorn looked after the departed duo of operatives. _A woman of steel and the finest mind humanity has to offer. If it's them… if it's the two of them, then maybe, just maybe they have a shot._ The major turned to Hypergeek. "Any contact from DSM?"

The psionic engineer didn't open his eyes. His only reply was a single shake of his head.

Van Doorn sighed and turned back to his blueprints. His eyes darted back up as one of his messengers peeked in through the doorway.

"Sitrep! And for the love of god tell me we have those comms up and running!"

* * *

The auxiliary power banks spooled up and the blast doors finally inched open after what had seemed like an eternity. Daishi launched herself through the doorway, the strong mechanized legs of her exoskeleton hissing and clanging.

A pair of base security personnel were holed up inside the antechamber of mission control. Two massive plasma barrages shot through the windows. The soldiers cowered behind a terminal, holding onto their heads as glass rained down on them.

The blue glow of the hologlobe dominated the hall of Mission Control. Kilroy was crouched behind the hologram's base next to the smoking wreckage of a mechtoid. Another was still operational just outside the antechamber. The alien took aim with one of its cannons and fired a blast of ionized elerium at the assault. Kilroy turned her back and covered her neck. The titan armor ate the contact, causing the matte black alloy to turn green. Even over the constant gunfire and blasting of plasma, Daishi could hear Kilroy's enraged scream.

Daishi pounced on the enemy. She tore her way through the narrow doorway of the antechamber, bending iron with ease. The mechtoid turned to face her, but it was too late. Daishi unleashed a furious scream as she body-slammed the alien mech. Concrete debris and dust filled the air as the two titans crashed into a support beam.

The mechtoid's twin-linked plasma cannons pulsed green. High-energy plasma scorched the ground under them as Daishi grappled the enemy's furiously rumbling arms. She couldn't read the sectoid's tiny face behind its cover of titanium glass. Suddenly, Daishi let go with her left hand.

No longer held down, the plasma cannon fired a wild burst upwards. The Kinetic Strike Module's turbines fanned out to the sides. Blue flames roared back from Daishi's fist as she struck down on the enemy's arm. The mechtoid's cannon cracked under the force like a twig.

The enemy reeled from the impact, falling to one knee. Daishi grabbed its shoulder with her right arm. She felt the exoskeleton; she _was_ the exoskeleton. Her systems strained, she pulled the enemy back to its feet. With all her might, she brought the KSM crashing down on the alien's midsection.

The mechtoid's core was crushed in an explosion of sparks. The creature was smashed against the pillar, forcing the steel beam to adapt its shape. Daishi pulled back hard, dislodging her fist from the crumpled remains of the enemy. The wreckage leaked sparks and green elerium gas.

Strike-1 was engaged in a battle with floaters. The aliens assaulted them from the cave side of Mission Control. One of the creatures on the upper rafters howled as a burst of alloy rounds tore through its body. Scubaman sent a volley towards the floaters from behind his pillar.

"Daishi! From the back! They're—"

Scubaman's frantic motioning towards the loading docks came to an abrupt end. The captain grabbed his head, leaving his rifle dangling by its sling. His lips peeled back, revealing a row of straight teeth gritted in an internal struggle.

Daishi's feet kicked up grit and debris from the broken pillar. She recognized the conflict Scuba was under all too well. The MEC trooper took a left into the hallway leading towards the docks. At the end of the corridor, she saw the enemy. The sectoid commander was shaking furiously behind the corner on her left. Daishi propelled herself forward at full speed. Her view of the enemy bounced up and down with each stride as she closed the distance. A gauss rifle opened fire behind her.

Damage indicators flashed on-screen as Daishi felt the impact of alloy rounds on her back armor. She was almost there. The little red alien pulled back around the corner. Daishi slung the railgun to her left hand and brought her foot down with a decisive clang.

The Pathfinder's massive boots ground a jet of sparks off the metal floor as she skated around the corner. She registered the muton elite in red armor at the back of the building; the alien was engaged in a fire fight with the base security inside. Daishi's target was right in front of her. The alien tried to turn and run, but it couldn't escape the massive hand that swooped down and grabbed hold of its leg. Daishi swung her arm back.

The sectoid dangled helplessly at the end of the MEC's huge fist. It flew through the air in a high arch before connecting with solid metal. A dark stain was left high on the wall. The sectoid's broken carcass crumpled to the floor. Daishi was already back around the corner.

The muton elite fired a wild barrage at her. The stream of elerium barely grazed Daishi's shoulder. The red targeting reticule on her HUD settled on the enemy's midsection. Daishi squeezed the trigger.

The force of a railgun shot to the chest sent the muton flying against the wall behind it. Its red armor was incredibly strong and thick; despite the wound, the enemy struggled to get back up on its feet. A second slug barreled through the cracked armor. Yellow ichor splattered the wall as the alien finally settled down.

Rear contact dealt with, Daishi ran a quick diagnostic of her systems. The armor of the MEC-2 Sentinel was green but for a tiny patch on her right shoulder blade. All subsystems were functional. Daishi rounded the corner, re-joining the fight.

"Sorry about the paintjob! I'll make it up to you _mija_!" Scubaman was grinning behind his pillar, holding onto his temple with one hand. Despite their dire predicament, Daishi felt a small smile tug at her lips. Scuba was truly impossible.

"Disc, _disc!_ Two discs!"

Kilroy's cry was followed by a stream of radiant alloy rounds tearing through Mission Control. The barrage whizzed over the assault's head and obliterated a row of computer terminals behind her. Orgun emerged from under the destroyed table, dashing into cover behind the next one. The familiar cracking of a gauss autorifle joined the cacophony of battle.

Cell gritted her teeth on the catwalk overlooking Mission Control. Her machine gun was steadied against the railing, beating furiously against her shoulder. A cyberdisc had emerged through the lower entrance to the caves, and Cell hosed a relentless swarm of alloy upon the enemy.

The second disc was lightning-fast. The robot spun in under the archway. Its shell twirled and opened. The sound of its cannon blast was electrifying, making the hairs at the back of Cell's neck stand up. A slug of molten alloy punched through the gunner's shoulder. She fell backwards.

Cell's vision was dark. Her world was supplanted by the red-hot pain in her left shoulder. She bit her tongue. The taste of iron made her nostrils flare. Cell realized she wasn't breathing. She gasped for air. All at once the world came back, crashing into her with the weight of a freight train.

She was still holding onto her autorifle. The weapon teetered on top of the railing. Cell was squatting behind the weapon, its weight the only thing keeping her from falling on her back. Her left arm was a limp and useless thing beside her, blood dripping onto the floor from her fingertips. Cell bit her teeth together. The pain in her gums gave her strength. She tensed her arm and legs.

With a furious cry, Cell pulled herself back up. Grimacing, she slung her left arm over the autorifle. Holding the weapon down with her injured arm made her vision blur. Cell saw four cyberdiscs down below. She didn't aim with her eye; she aimed with her heart.

Thunder returned to Delta section as the gauss autorifle rained death upon the aliens. One disc was carved open from top to bottom. Its broken shell clattered onto the floor. The deafening explosion that followed licked the catwalk above. Cell held down the trigger. The remaining cyberdisc emerged from the flames, rising high towards the hologlobe. It spun open, taking aim at Kilroy.

Cell's aim was true. The cyberdisc's exposed front took a volley of alloy rounds. The robot jerked erratically from side-to-side, sparks shooting out its hinges. The disc exploded mid-air, sending shrapnel all over Mission Control. Kilroy tumbled from under it, diving into cover under a scorched terminal.

Cell swung around, crashing down on the catwalk. She let the gauss autorifle fall beside her. Leaning against the railing, she panted hard. The nausea was overwhelming. All it took was one gag and her stomach turned. Vomit splattered the front of her carapace armor and thighs. Cell felt around helplessly with her right hand. She found the medkit on her belt. She jerked the pouch free and spilled its contents on the ground.

Fumbling about, Cell found the morphine. The needle of the syringe disappeared into her thigh, followed by a grunt. Closing her eyes, Cell rested her head against the railing. A moment. She only needed a moment.

"Cell! You okay?"

Scuba's inquiry barely reached Cell's ears. She swallowed. The drug was quickly spreading throughout her body. "I'm good," she croaked.

Feeling like she could finally move again, Cell opened her eyes. Picking up the anesthetic and a leather strap, she observed her left shoulder. Cell grimaced at the sight of the wound. The alloy slug had torn clear through the carapace armor. Both metal and cloth were scorched black around the wound. Bone, tendons and flesh visible in the hole had all received similar treatment.

_Well, at least it's mostly cauterized,_ Cell thought to herself grimly. She slipped the leather strap between her teeth and bit down.

The prick of the needle in her wounded flesh made Cell wince. The hardest part was yet to come. Reaching to her side, she took the medicinal foam sprayer in her hand. She guided it over her shoulder and took a deep breath. She pushed down on the button.

Cell's heels beat the ground as white foam filled her wound. Her head thrashed from side to side, but she was oblivious to the hard metal grinding her skull. The foam dripping through her wound was the color of cranberry cream. Cell did it all in one go, making sure to catch the exposed flesh around the wound as well. Finally, the empty can clattered to the floor.

Staring at the wall before her, Cell savored the moment. The pain was gone now; the powerful numbing agents in the foam combined with morphine and anesthetic had left her left arm feeling blissfully dead. The foam would harden within minutes; she would be ready to move out soon.

_Damn, I need a smoke._ Cell reached for the front pocket of her vest. That was when she heard rapid scuttling in the vents above, followed by a metallic crash towards the loading docks.

Cell grabbed her autorifle and brought it against her healthy shoulder. Her left arm was stiff, but she could still use it to hold the weapon up. She stared intently at the doorway to her left. It lead into the rafters above the loading docks. She opened her mouth to call out to the rest of her squad. A shadow darted past the doorway, its claws rattling on metal floor. Cell squeezed the trigger.

Deafening gunfire filled Delta section once more.


	76. Chapter 76: At Heaven's Gate

Chapter 76: At Heaven's Gate

26th of January, 2016

XCOM Asia HQ, Medbay

The distant rumbling of an explosion carried over to the medbay, sending chalk and dust raining from the ceiling. The ponderous ticking of the clock was drowned by sounds of battle from somewhere far-off. The gunfire intensified for a brief moment.

Awo relaxed his shoulders. "Seems it's not time yet, boys."

The base security personnel around Awo relaxed visibly. Overturned hospital cots served as rudimentary cover in the brightly lit ward. The defense's lines of fire were cleared towards the sliding double doors of the main entrance. Only six good soldiers to hold the line against an overwhelming enemy force.

Awo sighed and re-holstered his pistol. _They'll come. The medbay is a priority one liberation during a hostile invasion_. The Colonel's right hand stayed near his thigh. He absentmindedly rubbed the injured leg. He could feel the lump of bandages through his loose pants. The pain was manageable; the doctor had said he'd be ready for discharge in one to two weeks' time with proper bedrest.

The double doors at the right end of the ward swung open and a pale-faced, red-haired young blueshirt stepped into the hall. Awo perked up and turned to face the operative.

"Talk to me, Connor," Awo said eagerly. "Tell me you've got good news." He needed something to take his mind off the agonizing wait.

"I had a broken connection for a moment but didn't make contact. The line is dead, sir."

Awo kept from grimacing at the report. "Well, it's more success than we've had up to now. Keep trying, Private."

A massive explosion shook the medbay. The clock fell off the wall, its glass cover shattering on the tiled floor. A hospital cot tipped over, causing the soldier behind it to go tumbling. Medical tables were overturned, their clanging joined by the chime of a hundred medical instruments scattering over the floor. Awo cussed as his weak leg gave way. He struck the floor shoulder-first, the jolt of impact rattling his teeth.

The tremors settled down. A litany of profanities left Awo's lips as he scrambled up to his feet. The base security were watching the main entrance nervously. A familiar sound returned: gunfire, this time a lot closer than before.

"Stand-to, men! Sounds like company's coming!" Awo pulled his handgun and started towards one of the makeshift firing positions. Connor was still standing by the doors, wide-eyed. "Connor, you get back on that phone! We need those reinforcements!"

"Yes, sir," Connor replied with a hasty salute. His inexperience showed; saluting in a combat situation was a surefire way to get a superior killed.

Awo met Connor's distraught expression. He seemed to grasp sense of the order, but Awo could read a deep concern in the private. The Colonel dismissed the thought as Connor disappeared back into the corridor housing the operating rooms and the doctor's office.

The sounds of battle drew ever closer. The distant pops and crackle of gunfire had become snaps and bangs. Awo gripped his pistol, removing the safety with his thumb. Clad only in combat pants and an issued tank top, armed with a simple Beretta… he hadn't felt this naked fighting the aliens since day one. The Colonel took a deep breath to re-focus, but was interrupted by the doors on the right swinging open once more.

"Sir! I've managed to get through!" Awo turned to face Connor. The blueshirt's posture reflected the excitement in his voice. "I made the request for reinforcements. The Commander said he wants to speak to you directly, sir."

"There's the news I wanted, Private," Awo chuckled. He made for the door as fast as he could with his awkward gait. "Hold the line, boys and girls! The cavalry's coming!" the Colonel encouraged over his shoulder. He holstered his pistol and pushed in through the double doors with Connor in tow.

The long corridor was overwhelmingly white; white-washed walls above gleaming tiles. On both sides, doors lead into various machine rooms. First on the right was the operating room. Awo glanced in through the door's windows on the way past. Jensen, the base security in charge of civilian personnel, nodded in respect. Doctor Gutierrez and a few nurses were huddled in a small congregation, seeking comfort in each other amidst the crisis. _Damn lucky I was the only one injured, _Awo thought as he passed the room.

The long corridor formed a T-junction at the end. Offices and the personnel break room lined the back wall. Awo took the right and briskly made his way to the last room on the left. He threw the door open and hobbled to the desk in the back. He grabbed the receiver off the wall and brought it to his ear.

"Sir, this is Colonel Awo. Awaiting orders."

Only silence answered him. Awo frowned and hit the connect button on the interface. Nothing.

"It's dead," Awo said. "I need you to get him back on the line," he ordered while turning around.

The look of anguish had returned to Connor's eyes. The young blueshirt shifted his shotgun restlessly, refusing to look Awo in the eye.

"What is this, Private?" Awo shook the receiver, the movement punctuating his words. "Speak. _Now_."

Connor finally looked up. "Sir." His voice was unsure and full of concern. "Sir, it's safer back here. I'm sure help is almost here so… so—"

Awo's eyes widened. "You son of a bitch."

The receiver let out a hollow thud as it struck the side of the desk. Awo walked up to Connor, the pain in his leg forgotten as adrenaline rushed his body. "Step aside, Private," Awo snarled through gritted teeth. Connor met his eyes. The private looked away and moved aside. Awo stepped into the doorway and pulled his sidearm. His voice was chilling as he spoke over his shoulder, "With me, Private." The Colonel stepped into the corridor and motioned with his pistol. Connor wore a look of despair as he took point.

The soldiers made it to the intersection before another explosion shook the complex. The lights flickered twice before going out. They were left in complete darkness. Connor drew a shaky breath.

Sharp to adapt, Awo spoke in a neutral tone, "Easy, Private. Your flashlight."

Quiet rustling joined their breathing. The back of the medbay was well sound-proofed; the battle could've very well already reached the ward. A low humming filled the corridor as emergency lights turned on. The lights crackled before settling down, their soft red glow illuminating barely anything in the darkness. Connor's flashlight clicked and a cone of white light shone on the tiled floor. The blueshirt moved up, lighting the way into the main corridor.

A cacophony of crashing metal made Awo jump. The noise came from the direction of the doctor's office. As the Colonel began to turn, an all-too familiar sound followed; the rapid scuttle of claws on floor.

"_Contact!"_ Awo shouted, raising his pistol. The cone of light swung past him, briefly illuminating the approaching horror.

"Sir!"

Awo grunted as something heavy crashed into him. He lost hold of his pistol as it skidded away into the shadows. The breath was knocked out if him as he struck the floor. A terrified scream echoed through the empty hallways. Awo struggled up to his elbows and looked back.

Connor was suspended mid-air, two bloodied claws sticking out of his chest. The shotgun hanging by its sling illuminated the floor below him. Streams of dark blood dripped down to form a pool on the white tiles. The chryssalid's eerily human-like hands grabbed the soldier's head. A soft gurgle left Connor's throat as his head was bent backwards. The insect's orange-glowing eyes appeared above him as it spewed its seed down his throat.

Awo broke out of his daze. His lungs burned from a lack of oxygen, and his injured leg screamed under him. But Awo crawled on regardless. The soft red glow before him drove him on. He had to live. Right, left, right, left. Awo's elbows crashed on the tiles as he struggled forward. Only a few meters now. Palms down, he pushed himself up to his feet. The rushing of adrenaline now filled his world; a waterfall of blood crashed through his ears, drowning out everything else. Awo lunged forward. His hands closed around the fire extinguisher, tearing it off the wall as he fell.

The safety pin clattered to the floor and Awo pushed down on the trigger. Freezing carbon dioxide shot out of the hose, drawing a blood-curdling howl out of the chryssalid. The creature recoiled to its back claws, the red light illuminating its nightmarish form. Blood from its claws spattered Awo. But he held down the trigger regardless, dousing the cold-blooded alien in sub-zero temperatures. The chryssalid's movements grew ponderous as it tried to get away from the cold. Awo clambered up to his feet, pushing the alien back. Its hideous form was covered in frost, the white sticking out of the darkness like a disease. The fire extinguisher emptied.

Awo charged forward, roaring at the top of his lungs. The metal canister crashed into the chryssalid. The alien toppled over with a pitiful squeal. Loud, hollow clanging echoed through the hallway as the fire extinguisher bounced on the floor.

Awo took off running as fast as he could. There was no time to waste; the chryssalid would be back. He rounded the corner, the light from Connor's flashlight illuminating his path from behind.

Awo's heart raced like crazy as he passed the first set of machine rooms. _Faster! Faster, you useless piece of shit!_ His lungs were on fire as he ran under the dim red lights. _Not like this! Not after Johannesburg. Not by a 'lid!_ His leg screamed for him to stop, muscle tearing itself open. _Just a little more… almost there_. His enhanced adrenal glands were overloaded, pushing his heart and body to the extreme as he approached the end of the line. He could see bright light shining through the small windows. _Almost… there…_

The doors to the operating room swung open. Awo let out a cry of dismay as something grabbed him around the chest. Awo crashed down hard and found himself face-to-face with Private Jensen. His eyes were empty and streaked with blood. The zombie's lips peeled back in a snarl as it brought its jaws at its victim's neck.

Awo's thumbs dug into the zombie's throat in a desperate attempt to hold it back. But it was hopeless; the creature's bear hug was inhuman in strength as it squeezed Awo closer and closer. Even if he managed to hold it back, his spine would snap from the pressure. _Not like this. Fucking fuck me,_ Awo thought despondently, squeezing his eyes shut.

A massive crash shook Awo's world. Something damp spattered his face. The hold around him loosened and he blinked tentatively. Jensen's crushed head before him was illuminated by the cone of a flashlight; his thumbs were still sunken in the zombie's throat.

Merlin released a furious battle cry as she stepped towards the charging chryssalid. The alien's claw impaled her palm. The MEC trooper brought her left arm up. The insect's second claw lodged between the bars of her augment. Merlin's teeth were clenched together in rage. With another scream she brought her arms across, twisting the chryssalid's claws and throwing the alien to the ground.

The creature struggled on its back, its hands seeking to grab a hold of Merlin's metallic legs. Its rear claws jabbed wildly at her exposed midsection. Merlin kept the enemy at bay, twisting with her arms to avoid the lethal claws.

"_The fuck are you waiting for? Fucking shoot this motherfucking bug!"_

A thunderous roar from Squint's shotgun caused the chryssalid's belly to explode in a fountain of gore. Merlin let out a sigh of relief as the creature ceased its struggle. She tried to pull herself free of its claws but to no avail. A slowly swinging cone of light emerged from the darkness.

"Merlin! _Look out!_"

Merlin looked up at Squint's warning. A zombie with ginger hair and a swinging shotgun around its neck stared her down. "Fuck me," she muttered, giving her arms another futile jerk.

The sharp crack of a low caliber firearm echoed through the hallway. Connor slumped backwards, a dark hole in his forehead. Awo was propped up by one elbow. The muzzle of Jensen's sidearm in his hand drooped down as the Colonel laid his head back down on the floor.

A few more curses later Merlin was leaning over Awo. "Saved your ass once again, Colonel Dumpling," she grinned madly at him. The right hand she offered him had a gaping hole in the palm. The edges were still quietly sizzling with acid. Awo motioned at the hand and Merlin offered him her left with a laugh.

"I'd say it went both ways," Awo said, grabbing onto the offered arm. Merlin pulled him up to his feet. Awo grimaced as his right foot touched the ground. The wound had closed and began scarring a few days ago but Awo could once again feel blood seeping into the bandage. Above all there was a tearing pain in the muscle: it drilled in deep, making his bone ache and eyes water. "What happened? Are they…" Awo began to ask, turning towards the ward. The doors swung open, letting bright light into the dark corridor. Awo cursed sharply, covering his eyes and lifting his pistol.

"Don't shoot, jackass!" Merlin laughed. Awo peered towards the light, squinting. Two blueshirts stood in the doorway. He lowered his pistol and turned to Merlin. "Fucking god-like timing, Merlin," he complimented.

A grin spread on Merlin's face. "Just about. There was a massive goddamn collapse in the way. Had to go all the way around. Caught a pod of mutons in a crossfire right at the doors. Bastards had no chance. No fatalities to boot."

Awo nodded along with Merlin's rough report. He pointed at the two blueshirts. "You two, watch the corridor. Squint, bring that light over." The scout relieved her guard duty to the base security and walked over. "Good job," Awo said, giving the short woman a pat on the shoulder. Squint smiled at him, her anguish at their situation apparent in her eyes but well under control. Awo turned to face the double doors of the operating room.

Merlin's expression dropped as Awo pushed one of the doors open. "You had people in there?"

Awo motioned for Squint to join him. The scout shone her shotgun's light inside. Half a dozen corpses dressed in white littered the room. A nurse was flung over the operating table, a pool of blood gathering below. Streaks of blood glistened on white tiles under the flashlight's cone. Doctor Gutierrez sat against the far wall. A smear of red stained the wall behind him. Squint inhaled sharply at the sight.

"No way in hell one bug did all that," Merlin said as she pushed the second door open. She held a pistol and a flashlight in her hands. She shone the light upwards, revealing a metal vent hanging by its hinges. "This is some horror movie shit right here. We need to evac ASAP."

"Yeah. But first…" Awo's words trailed off.

Merlin nodded as she followed Awo's trail of thought. "Got it," she said matter-of-factly. The safety let out a quiet click and Merlin stepped into the room.

Merlin fired her sidearm five times. By the end of it, each corpse had a hole in its head. She stepped back out into the corridor and reloaded her pistol.

Awo touched her metal arm. "Merlin, you didn't have to—"

"Save it, Awo," Merlin shook him off. Her voice was strained as she berated him, "You have a soft spot for people. I couldn't give a fuck. Let's go."

Merlin's squad of four blueshirts had joined Awo's, and the soldiers greeted the Colonel enthusiastically as he stepped back into the ward. Awo allowed himself a brief smile before he cut them off, "Listen up, people! This facility is compromised. We have chryssalids in the vents. Grab as many medical supplies as you can and get ready to move!" The base security acknowledged his orders, springing into action.

"You head back to Van Doorn. He's holding down the fort at the mess," Merlin told Awo. The Colonel gave her a curious look.

"And where are you going?"

Merlin's jaw settled defiantly. "Delta section. The attack is strongest there. Strike-1 is in the breach."

Awo lifted an eyebrow. "Something tells me that wasn't part of your orders."

"Fuck orders! I'm going."

Awo grinned at the heated response. "No, Merlin. _We're_ going."

A look of disbelief spread over Merlin's face. She glanced down at Awo's leg. "You're injured. You can't go."

"Like hell I can't!" Awo boomed. Teeth gritted, he walked over to his bed. He grabbed a bottle of painkillers and threw a handful in his mouth. A medkit lay on a nearby table and Awo seized it before sitting down. He lowered his pants and tore free the bandages that had turned faded red. The Colonel sprayed his wound with medical foam as he looked back at Merlin through teeth gritted in pain. His expression was non-negotiable. "You think I'm going to cower in the backlines while my people are out there? Kilroy, Scuba… all of Strike-1. No, Merlin. _We're_ going. You too, Squint." The scout perked up at her mention, coming to attention. Awo tossed the foam sprayer aside and wrapped a healthy amount of gauze around his leg. "Pick two of your people to join us, Merlin."

"Santos and Benson," Merlin replied instantly. There was a spark in her eye and a grin dancing on her lips. This was the leader she had come to know.

"Good," Awo said. He finished off the package with duct tape, wrapping both ends tight to his skin. The combat pants barely fit over the hasty dressing, and Awo grunted as he pulled them over. "O'Hara, you've got the command. Take all the kit you can carry and report to the Doorn in the mess."

"Yes, sir."

"Give me that weapon!" The Colonel boomed at a passing blueshirt. A streak of blood still decorated the side of Jensen's rifle, but it only seemed fitting to Awo. "Magazines," he ordered, and the base security complied. Awo stuffed his pockets full. He checked the chamber of his rifle and let the bolt close with a clack.

"Let's kick these fucking aliens out of our house."

* * *

"Come on, bring it!"

The alloy cannon bucked against Kilroy's shoulder. The muton reeled from the impact, toppling over the railing and falling into the gaping maw of the loading elevator's shaft. The assault pumped another shell into her weapon and ducked behind the forklift. A barrage of plasma scorched the vehicle's cab and terminated against the wall.

The massive ramp of the Loading Docks was flanked on either side by tall buildings. It formed a deadly funnel which the enemy was conveniently charging through. Strike-1 was set in defense on the other side of the hall, the thunder of their gauss weaponry answered by the dull beating of plasma. Cell and DSM rained fire from the rafters above. DSM traced a muton's mad dash down the ramp. She squeezed the trigger, sending a burst just over the alien's head. She blamed the miss on the prodding sensation in the back of her mind.

"Not now Hypergeek!" DSM yelled out loud. She took aim again, this time striking her target. The muton fell, sliding down the rest of the slope.

Kilroy and Daishi formed the vanguard at the bottom of the hall. The MEC trooper waited patiently behind a large stack of metal boxes on one of the cargo pallets. Another enemy made a break for it on the right, dashing along the catwalk.

"Thin man, two o'clock high! Catwalk!" Kilroy shouted.

Daishi stepped out of cover. She aimed her railgun, and the red targeting reticule on her visor followed the enemy's movement. Daishi squeezed the trigger. A sharp crack and the suit was nailed to the wall, a cloud of acid erupting from its mangled body. A jet of plasma struck Daishi's left shoulder, making her wince. She stepped back into cover and observed her systems. The alarm in her head announced MEC armor status yellow on her left shoulder. The war of attrition was taking its toll on her exoskeleton.

The rest of Strike-1 was using the two antechambers between the loading docks and Mission Control as bunkers. Gauss and assault rifles spewed fire through the now-broken windows. A drone flew over the building on the right. One of the blueshirts dropped the machine with a controlled burst.

"See now, Tethalaki! Put bullet into alien! Easy!"

The base security grinned at Captain Scubaman's raucous encouragement. His grin disappeared just as quickly when a new enemy emerged on top of the ramp.

"Sectopod! Prep that launcher Orgun!"

Just as Scuba barked the order, the alien robot moved. It faced straight towards their office. Scuba was about to yell for the blueshirt to take cover, but it wasn't the main cannon on the front that opened. The sectopod's artillery batteries were trained squarely on their position. Scubaman felt the hum more than he heard it: a vibration deep within his skull. A vivid glow of crimson lit up the batteries.

"_OUT!"_

Scuba bolted up, grabbing Tethalaki. He dove through the front windows and hit the ground rolling.

The control room disappeared in a torrent of devastating explosions. Deafening thunder rolled through Delta section as the sectopod hammered their position. The artillery was meant for long range indirect-fire; shot in an almost straight line, the explosives scattered all over. One took out the catwalk on the right, causing the metal bridge to crash down. Another struck the underside of the rafters, making Cell and DSM struggle for balance as the metal groaned in agony under them.

The sounds of the world had momentarily left Scubaman. He glanced over his shoulder, blinking. Flames roared out of the broken windows and shattered walls of the antechamber. He turned to Tethalaki and gave the private a rough shake. The blueshirt blinked at him, dumbfounded. "_Get back in the fight, soldier!"_ Scuba shouted. The look on Tethalaki's face told him the private hadn't heard a word. The Captain led by example as he turned towards the hall.

Scuba crawled to the railing overlooking the docks, taking cover behind its concrete base. He checked his rifle before looking back towards their second base of fire. Orgun held the rocket launcher over his shoulder. Adrenaline still pumping through his body, Scuba gave his friend the thumbs-up with a mad grin. The Irishman didn't see him; he was fully focused on the target. A massive jet of smoke shot out the back and the rocket punched across the hall.

The anti-tank warhead scored a direct hit on the sectopod. Its left artillery module exploded, leaving a gaping hole that spewed thick black smoke. Scuba rose to his knee as Tethalaki joined him on the railing. Focused on taking down organic enemies, he trusted his squad would handle the sectopod.

Daishi stepped into the fight. The sectopod loomed over the hall; a machine terrifying in both size and firepower. Daishi closed out the rest of the fight as her crosshair settled over the alien weapons platform. She took the shot, making the robot recoil from the impact. The railgun's cooling systems kicked in. The numbers ran down on her HUD; five more seconds. The sectopod was facing her now. Somehow its lifeless front lights managed to look furious. Daishi slammed her railgun down to the ground. She bowed her head and prepared herself.

The impact of high-energy cannon fire was nothing like that of plasma rifles. Frantic screaming of alarms filled Daishi's head as her exoskeleton shook violently. The second shot connected with her like a truck. She reeled from the impact, struggling to stay on her feet as the tail of the crimson energy beam passed through her. _I can take it. I have to take it._ With clenched teeth, Daishi stood steadfast and prepared for the third.

The third never came. Daishi brought her railgun up. Sparks and elerium fire shot out of the cracks in the sectopod's armor. The robot's legs gave way as it crashed to the ground. The smoking wreckage slid halfway down the slope before coming to a halt. The lights on the front blinked once before dying down forever.

"That it?" Kilroy shouted as the last enemy in sight was dead. The assault's voice was equal measures mocking and hopeful.

"Contact, contact!" DSM informed from up high. The scout's eyes were closed, two fingers on her temple as she focused on the psionic signals. "Mutons down the front, more 'lids in the vents!"

Tethalaki's expression sank at the news. "What are we supposed to do? They just keep coming!"

Scuba slammed another magazine into his gauss rifle; he only had one spare left. He chambered a round and moved towards the ladder to reinforce the defense on the rafters. "You keep killing, soldier! Come on, move your lazy ass! You're with me," Scuba shouted over his shoulder.

Tethalaki clambered up on weary legs. The battle was still far from over.

* * *

Massive clanging echoed throughout the hallways as Renzol sped forwards. Her armor was scorched and her huge metal knuckles were stained yellow with ichor; it hadn't taken long to find contact after leaving the safe perimeter around the barracks.

Another intersection loomed ahead, and Renzol burst into the juncture. She checked both ways under the fluorescent lights before taking the right. Clearing corners was pointless now; the enemy could hear her coming a mile away. Renzol was surprised to find she was okay with that. There was something extremely liberating in letting go of protocol and rushing into battle with abandon after her arduous ascent from the third level.

Renzol arrived at the stairs leading up near the loading docks. The small steps bent under her massive boots as she leapt up the flight. Her movement came to a screeching halt at top.

The corridor had collapsed. Pipes and metal framing stuck out of a wall of impenetrable rock. Renzol stepped forward, the urge to tear into the pile with her hands overwhelming. She closed her eyes and forced herself to stop. _Adrenaline is fine. Rage is fine. But control yourself._ Renzol took a deep breath to calm herself. She needed to think of an alternate way. Again.

Hunterhr doubled over beside the MEC trooper. Sweat poured down his dark face as he caught his breath. He looked up to survey Renzol's face. He couldn't see behind the visor of the MEC suit. Not having any contact to a person, be it facial expression or body language, unsettled him. The glimmer of a single purple star peeked through his veil of consciousness. Hunterhr pushed the urge away. He would never violate her person like that.

Hunterhr straightened his back. "Where to next?" he asked.

"I'm thinking."

The answer was curt; Hunterhr hadn't expected anything less. He readjusted his rifle and turned to watch their rear.

"Any suggestions on the course of action, Gunnery Sergeant?" A dry smile broke Hunterhr's face at the inquiry. At least he had her voice to go by, and it was as by-the-book as ever.

"We can try engineering. Even if the main ramp is sealed, there is a small stairwell that links up behind the armory." Hunterhr remembered the staircase all too well; it was the one he had used on the night of the calendar party. "Though I heard Van Doorn say the enemy presence is heavy there."

Renzol turned around, exoskeleton clanging. "Good thinking, Gunnery Sergeant. Let's move out."

Hunterhr took a deep breath. He had hoped the potential danger would have steered Renzol to a different option. The MEC trooper took off and Hunterhr followed.

As the pair moved through the vacant hallways, they stumbled upon the scene of a battle. The broken bodies of base security were littered about. Sticky streams of dark blood ran in rivulets, forming thick pools the advancing pair had to step through. The sharp stench of ionized elerium and burning kevlar still wafted forth from the corpses. Two bodies were horribly mangled: one's head was an indistinguishable mess while deep red gashes broke the other one's chest. There wasn't a single alien corpse in sight. Renzol's mouth tightened as she passed through the massacre, doing her best to keep from stepping on the fallen. Both soldiers made it to the next juncture before a familiar sound greeted them: gunfire.

Renzol halted, and Hunterhr was quick to her side. They hadn't heard the sounds of battle since leaving the barracks.

"That's engineering," Hunterhr said, listening keenly to the direction of the snapping rifles.

"Stay back. No flashbangs," Renzol ordered. _An ongoing firefight… moving in could be advantageous. Or disastrous_, she thought.

"Acknowledged."

Renzol led the charge, chasing the rapid cracking of automatic rifles. The cacophony of battle was soon joined by the dull pulsing of energy weapons. Renzol braced herself as she rounded the corner.

The hallway ended in a T-juncture. Two pallet trucks were overturned, their boxes of cargo spewing spare parts on the floor. Three mutons were using the trucks as cover, firing their plasma rifles. No one was watching their flank. Renzol picked up the pace, pushing herself to ever higher speeds. Her exoskeleton shook violently, but she knew she could do it. She was halfway down the corridor before the mutons registered the approaching clanging. The closest one turned to look. Renzol was already on them.

The Archer hit a low point in her stride. She burst forward, bringing her elbow up with incredible force. The muton went flying from the impact, crashing amidst its brethren. The other ones turned their weapons on Renzol. She stepped forward and crashed her massive boot into the next alien. It howled in rage, stumbling backwards against the wall. Point-blank plasma struck Renzol, sending damage sirens off in her head. Her first target tried to scramble up. Huge fists landed on the muton's back and the alien collapsed. Renzol's boot came down. Ichor and brain matter splattered the floor.

Gunfire had returned, pinning the farthest muton down. The one untouched kept firing, scoring Renzol's armor badly. She lunged at the enemy. It didn't even try to dodge; the frightening alien stood at two meters tall and had no intention of backing down. Renzol slammed down on its rifle and grabbed its head. She squeezed hard and the muton howled. A sharp jerk and the alien's neck snapped. It dropped lifeless to the ground.

Renzol regained eyes on the last enemy when a deafening roar echoed through the hallway. She wasn't the only one attracted by the firefight. She tried to reorient, but turning around in the exoskeleton was cumbersome.

The berserker struck Renzol like a wrecking ball. Alloy claws pierced her shoulder as the beast latched on. Renzol struggled to maintain her balance as the alien thrashed around, intent on tearing her arm off. She tried to reach around with her left hand, but it was futile. The bulky cybersuit couldn't bend like flesh and blood did. The alarms in her head screamed red as the creature landed another hit on her side.

A sudden brightness consumed Renzol. The roaring of the berserker and scream of sirens were replaced by incessant, high-pitched ringing. She shoved wildly with her arm and felt the enemy disengage. She backed up, attempting to reorient herself. The world crawled back in gradually. Stars and dark roses bloomed in her vision. The enemy was coming.

Renzol dug her feet into the ground and braced herself. The berserker leapt. The impact of the beast landing on her upraised arms rattled her hard. She bent backwards, struggling under the weight of the wildly thrashing alien. The berserker roared in her face; threads of spit shot out through the screen covering its mouth. Its claws beat against her arms savagely. Its legs kicked at her midsection. One hand reached over Renzol's guard. An ear-splitting screech made her bite down hard. Jagged scars ran across her visor. It would crush her face in if she fell. Renzol grimaced, fighting desperately against the weight of the enemy. She was losing.

_Do it! Use your strength! Do it NOW!_

Renzol felt new energy flood her mind and body. Her back was strained to the extreme; she couldn't tell where flesh ended and machine began. With a vicious scream, she gave everything she had. Her back snapped forward like a catapult. The berserker roared in rage as it sailed in a high arc before crashing on the ground. The beast was up instantly, rushing at Renzol.

_Wish I had the KSM,_ Renzol thought grimly.

"_Clear, Renzol! Clear, CLEAR!"_

Renzol registered the order and stepped aside. Her back was pinned against the wall; she was helpless against the oncoming menace. Thunderous gunfire filled the hallway.

The berserker was stopped in its tracks by five ballistic rifles. The beast clamored ever wilder as bloodlust drove it on. Bullets sank into its armor one after another. The alien lumbered forward another step, fighting against the tide. Its exterior was finally breached. Sprays of sickly yellow blood filled the air. One last howl rose high, echoing over the gunfire before dying down. The beast was dead.

The silence following the intense firefight was broken by a wild, cackling laugh. "What the fuck, Renzol!? You fucking crazy-ass bitch! Did they stick a pair of steel balls on you in the chop shop?" Merlin burst into another fit of high-pitched laughter.

Renzol turned to look at the people she had rushed in to help. Merlin was cackling uncontrollably, holding onto her stomach with tears in her eyes. Awo rounded a badly scorched forklift. He was grinning as he led Squint and two blueshirts towards Renzol. The MEC trooper noticed the slightest of limps in his movement. He was hiding it well.

"Good timing, Renzol. Great to have some backup out here."

"Sir," Renzol replied in a high voice. Her blood was still racing following the intense battle.

"Your squad?"

Renzol swallowed, attempting to calm herself down. "Just Hunterhr."

The psionic medic arrived at the intersection. Awo answered his greeting with a respectful nod. Renzol followed the exchange thoughtfully. She hadn't paid attention to it during the fight but now that she had calmed down, she was certain of it. Hunterhr had established a psionic link between them. Renzol eyed him warily. She hadn't been on her guard like she always was during training.

"…mission, Renzol?"

Renzol snapped back from her thoughts. "Say again, sir?"

Awo frowned at the unusual lack of focus. "I said: what's your mission, Renzol?"

"Delta section."

Awo nodded, pleased with the outcome. "We're on our way, too. Let's go." Hunterhr gave him a look and the Colonel added: "We were gonna use the main ramp in engineering but it was sealed."

Hunterhr interjected, "Sir, what about the personnel's access stairwell?"

"Didn't they seal that up during summer?"

"I used it in October, sir."

Awo sharpened up visibly. "Sonofabitch. We'll give it a shot." The Colonel turned to face the rest of his squad. "We're heading back to engineering! Renzol, take point. On contact, provide cover. No need for heroics."

"Acknowledged."

"Let's move out!"

* * *

The tide of enemies had finally ebbed. Strike-1 pushed on. The ramp of the loading dock was littered with alien corpses; the burning wreckage of a sectopod poured dark smoke into the air. Kilroy bounded up the ramp and slid into cover behind the great wreck under covering fire from DSM. She slung the alloy cannon to her back and pulled the gauss autopistol strapped to her leg. A drone came flying in over the building to her right. The autopistol stuttered, its rapid gunfire joined by the cracking of gauss rifles and the small machine crashed down.

"I'm running on fumes here!" Kilroy shouted. Two blueshirts dashed up to join DSM and Kilroy on the right while Scuba, Orgun, Cell, and Daishi moved into cover behind the antechamber on the left.

DSM closed her eyes and focused. Attuning to the Gift had become a second nature to her during battle. She let her consciousness float outwards, carried by gentle tunes. She drifted over the ramp and past the truck parked sideways on top, towards the main entrance. She felt a sinister presence turn towards her; dissonant screeching of gears and dark whispers. A massive gong sounded her time to retreat. DSM pulled back into her body before they caught her.

"Two commanders, two mechtoids. Probable drone support," DSM reported loudly, opening her eyes.

Kilroy's jaw dropped. "That many? How the hell are we supposed to take down that much armor?"

Scubaman laughed. "_¡Qué ojete! De nada, Kilroy!_ We'll follow Daishi's lead if that's what it comes down to!" The Pathfinder had killed countless aliens with her fists, and she would have to do a lot more before it was all over. A hasty plan formed in Scuba's mind. "Kilroy! Bait the enemy from that side. We'll ambush through the entrance and take them in one fell swoop. You give us the signal. Quickly now!"

"Roger!"

Tethalaki opened the door to the storage building. A barrage of green energy barely missed him. "We got elites!" the blueshirt screamed for contact as he pulled back into cover.

"I'll handle this!" Kilroy shouted, "You get in position!"

"You heard her," Scuba said. Cell was in position on the other side of the door. Looking each other in the eye, Scuba counted down, "Three, two, one, _BREACH!_"

Scubaman struck the door open and Cell steadied her autorifle against the doorframe. The antechamber was empty. The blast doors on the left were sealed; the cavalry was nowhere to be seen. Scuba turned over to his squad, "Orgun, you hold from the back. Rocket on my signal. Daishi, once the enemy is distracted, you rush them on their flank. Ready?" Everyone acknowledged the Captain's orders. "Break."

Scuba and Cell dashed through the interior of the building. A shout muffled by the antechamber announced their flank was clear. Setting up at the door, Scuba grinned at Cell.

"This is it, huh? Low on ammo, gravely wounded, no reinforcements in sight… our finest moment, Tectonic."

Cell settled the autorifle against her shoulder, ready to breach. "It was an honor, _El Zorro_."

Scuba's grin widened at the rare use of his preferred nickname. "_Was?_ Bitch please. Soon as we're through this, I'll show you what living truly means!"

"_Now! Do it now!"_

DSM's shout set off the plan. Scuba swung the door open and gained eyes on the enemy. The mechtoid standing in front of the truck's cabin was completely exposed. Scuba opened his mouth to shout for Orgun.

"SHIT!Disc_, disc, DI–!"_

DSM's warning came all too late. The antechamber was torn apart by an explosion of green fire. Scubaman, exposed in the doorway, was consumed by the flames. Cell was thrown back, screaming as the elerium scorched her body. The walls around her crumbled, filling the air with dust and debris.

The world was dead. Incessant ringing was all that was left. Cell's eyelids twitched. Her right hand felt about helplessly, looking for the alarm clock. Her head rolled to the side and she opened her eyes. She couldn't understand why she was numb all over.

Scubaman was lying a few meters from her. His carapace armor was horribly scorched, and streaks of blood covered his chiseled features. Cell shook her head. _Fight_. _Have to fight._

Cell rolled over to her stomach. She reached out with her right arm and dragged her broken body forward. Something heavy was holding her back. She looked to her left. Her arm was bent backwards, bone sticking out at the elbow. The sling of the gauss autorifle was still entwined around her broken arm. She struggled to a sitting position and pulled the weapon to her. She didn't question the lack of pain; she had to fight.

A wall of metal dropped down to its knees before Cell. She leaned her back against Daishi. A huge barrage of plasma scorched the MEC trooper's back, the flames bursting over her shoulders. Cell shook her left arm angrily. The sling of her weapon unraveled itself from her dead limb. Using only one hand, Cell lifted the autorifle to her lap. She gave Scuba another glance. She could see his chest rise; he was still alive. _I have to fight._

Cell swung the autorifle over with one hand. The weapon rested against Daishi's armor. Cell turned around and fired blindly towards the enemy, weapon kicking in her hand. She didn't feel pain anymore. She simply had to fight.

Another plasma barrage struck Daishi's back, making the alarms scream in her head. A second blast followed, this one striking her side. The green flames glanced her flank and roared past her. A muffled grunt left Cell's lips as she fell. The gauss autorifle she had refused to let go of clattered to the floor. Daishi shot an arm out to catch the wounded gunner. Even as she grabbed her squad mate, she knew it was too late. Cell's carapace armor was cracked and broken, her life's blood seeping through like tar; black blood straight from the heart.

Cell laid against the metal arm, oblivious to the battle raging around her. She stared into the fading depths of the ceiling. But even in her final moment, she didn't see death; she saw the smiling face of her daughter, the gap between her front teeth adorable as ever.

Tears welled in Cell's eyes, striking clean paths down her bloodied and ashen cheeks. "I'm sorry," she whispered, the words catching in her throat, "I couldn't protect you. I love you."

Cell went limp in Daishi's arms. Her fight was finally over. Her sacrifice; utmost in its finality.

Daishi bit back the tears as she watched Cell die in her arms. Visual alarms intruded her HUD, joining the screaming sirens as her armor reached critical status red. She could feel the heat of elerium on her back through five solid inches of battered alloy. That was nothing for the time as she cared for Cell, setting the deceased gunner down gently.

Daishi's legs burst to life, spinning her around. She tossed her empty railgun aside and lifted her right arm to shield herself. An endless stream of plasma beat all over her as she charged into the fire. Two deaths were enough. It was all she would give these bastards. "I won't have it!_ I won't HAVE IT!" _she yelled in defiance.

A huge explosion bloomed before Daishi. Shrapnel covered her, a large shard impaling her outstretched arm. Through the smoke, she could see the mechtoid reel from the impact. The one that had killed Cell. Daishi drew back her left arm and poured all of her being into the strike.

Daishi had never felt her arm as vividly as she did then, not even back when she was still whole. Every muscle, every tendon, every piece of machinery was strained to its absolute limit. Blue flames of retribution fanned back from the Kinetic Strike Module.

"_DIE!"_

Daishi's fist connected with devastating force. The mechtoid flew backwards, its core shattered. The alien crashed into the cabin of the truck. Metal bent to accommodate the shape of the enemy. It lay splayed across the front seats, lifeless.

Daishi turned left. The cyberdisc came crashing down in front of her. Daishi had no sense of the battle anymore; no sense of who was still alive and fighting the enemy. The mere thought was unbearable. She vaulted over the robot. The explosion that followed only served to accelerate her speed. She emerged from the destruction and laid eyes on the sectoid commander. The small alien was taking cover behind a stack of barrels against the wall. It perked up at the sight of the MEC trooper. Daishi leapt.

Her fist slammed down on the sectoid. The tiny creature was crushed under the KSM, its limbs splayed out to the sides. Daishi jerked her arm back. The sectoid was but slushy goo in a crater. Daishi turned to face the main entrance.

Nothing. The blast doors were bent open at the entry point of the attack. But no more aliens remained. Only the constant screaming of alarms in her head accompanied Daishi.

* * *

Scuba found himself staring at the sight that had haunted his dreams for years. Rough stone steps lead up to the tarnished copper doors of a grand cathedral under a bleak sun. The dusty afternoon air was dry; unusual even for the Argentinian winter. The bell in the tower tolled the passing of his mother. A wistful smile spread across Scuba's lips.

"You gonna climb up?"

Scuba looked to his side. A young rascal of ten years old stood beside him. His dark hair was messy, but his skinny and lanky body had a wiry endurance to it. Scuba grinned at the phantom.

"That's what you do when your heart gives way, kid."

The child lifted an eyebrow at the response. "That's funny," he said, "Mine's still beating. No way in hell I'm going there. That life ain't for me. Not with mother gone."

Scuba laughed. "You got that right."

The kid seemed to lose interest in him. "You do what you do. I'm gonna go play _Zorro!_" And with that the kid took off, disappearing into the winding cobblestone streets of Buenos Aires.

Scuba smiled after the phantom. A tidal wave of nostalgia swept over him; with it came deep melancholy. He turned to face the corroded doors. It had been so long ago it seemed like it had happened in another lifetime, to another person. _Mine's still beating_, the words echoed in his mind. Scuba took the first step.

"…_Scuba…"_

The distant voice calling his name made Scubaman stop. He brought his hand to his chest. Nothing. _Lower._ Scuba slid his hand down. There, under his heart, he felt it. The faintest of beats.

"…_Scuba!"_

A smile spread across Scuba's lips. "Not today, mother. Not today."

The vision faded away as Scubaman was consumed by darkness.

* * *

"…Scuba!"

Scubaman drew a tentative breath. His body burned all over; simply breathing was enough to make his existence a living hell. He cracked his eyes open arduously.

The sight before him was divine. A few strands of brown hair flanked the most beautiful face he had ever laid eyes on. It lacked makeup, but the hard lines around the mouth, the determined chin and eyes full of concern were like salve in his wounds. The matte black armor of her neck and shoulders spoke of infinite strength. The only thing missing were the burning wings of God's agent.

"There's my Angel of Death," Scuba whispered with a smile.

Kilroy closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath. "Scuba," she whispered, her voice full of relief. Opening her eyes, she brushed the side of his head with her armored fingers. "You're alive."

"Of course," Scuba started, only to cough in pain. Drawing breath, he continued, "Didn't I tell you, Kilroy? Why I got a second heart?"

Kilroy shook her head. "Don't talk. You're hurting."

Scuba's smile widened. "One heart for Earth and all its lovely ladies. The other one… for you, Kilroy."

Tears welled in Kilroy's eyes as she shook her head once more. "Shut up… just shut the hell up."

A laughing cough left Scuba's lips. "Don't you know, Kilroy?" he said, "Even on Death's Door, _El Zorro—"_

Kilroy's lips closed over Scuba's, finally silencing him. The kiss was gentle and deep and one long coming. It closed wounds and made the terrible situation manageable again. The sweetness of the moment stretched on until Kilroy finally pulled back. Scuba laid silent, eyes closed and lips upturned in a smile.

"He tain't gonna kick the bucket," Orgun said, kneeling next to Kilroy. He placed one hand over the assault's shoulders, taking Scuba's hand in his own. Kilroy held the other. "This right cunt hates being left out, ya'know. Can't die knowing what a whale of a time we're gonna have down here, you and me. Can't bear to leave such deadly folks behind." Scuba merely smiled, lying still under the people he loved.

The sound of metal beating on metal broke into the devastated antechamber. The blast doors bent at the edge. Another massive crash followed. The doors groaned hard and long as something huge pushed on them.

Renzol emerged through the doorway, bending the metal door upwards. She crouched in under the rim. Her railgun came up immediately as she surveyed the scene. Hunterhr followed and Kilroy perked up, gesturing frantically with her arm.

"Hunterhr! Over here, Congo! Quickly!"

The medic darted past Renzol and crashed down on his knees next to Scuba. Renzol stepped further into the now-quiet battlefield, weapon still up. Merlin, Awo, and the rest followed, muttering quietly at the devastation before them.

Daishi walked up to Renzol. "Thank God you made it. I don't think he had much time left," she said. The visor of her helmet was retracted, and Renzol followed suit. She looked over the battlefield once again. Her eyes settled on Cell. Without a word, Renzol walked past Daishi.

The gunner lay completely still. Her left arm was a mess, torn open at the shoulder and bent unnaturally at the elbow. Her usually tough-as-nails face was dirty with blood and ash, twisted in a mask of sorrow; eyes open and lifeless. Renzol kneeled next to her friend. She reached out her hand to close Cell's eyes, only to stop. She looked so delicate. Her large metal fingers could only serve to break her.

"_Hey, I'm Cell. From Bravo. Wait, you're… from Charlie, right?" _Grin and a spark in her eye.

"_Are you training tonight?... Mind if I join you?" _A raised eyebrow.

"_Fucking push, you Salty bitch!" _A sweat speckled brow.

"_Somewhere out there, my little girl... My baby girl." _Tears and an old photograph.

"_You know we had a platoon pool riding on you being a terminator sent back to kill all aliens!" _The playful wiggle of a cigar.

"_Thanks for coming along, Renzol. This was fun, right?" _A breath reeking of liquor.

"_Give 'em hell, Renzol." _A firm, sudden embrace.

"_You know you can talk to me right? I'm not really a great listener and I don't have shit for advice but… fuck!" _Desperate, pleading eyes.

"_Because you're my best friend."_

The Box closed with a clanging finality. The sound echoed throughout the vast emptiness inside Renzol. The blast doors were sealed for good. It left her empty and free; _finally_ free of weakness. Renzol rose to her feet and turned away from Cell.

"Umm, Renzol?" Daishi asked. Renzol answered her gaze with cool and emotionless eyes. "I heard her say something before she died." Daishi waited for a response, but Renzol didn't give her any. Daishi cleared her throat, "It was 'I couldn't protect you'. Do you know what that's about?"

Renzol answered without hesitation: "I have no idea."

Daishi nodded slowly at the reply. Renzol turned towards the doorway where Awo and the rest were standing. "You two. Privates!" The two base security snapped Renzol's way at her sharp call.

"You're with me. This perimeter isn't secure yet."

The two soldiers exchanged a glance before looking at Awo. Renzol was already away towards the devastated truck and the main entrance. Awo gave Renzol's back a look before turning to the blueshirts. "You heard the Master Sergeant. Leg it!"

Daishi watched the soldiers take off as Awo organized the rest of the after op. She had silenced the alarms in her head but her exoskeleton still felt shaky, like it was about to come loose at its hinges. She knelt down next to Cell and placed her fingers on the ground, sliding them slowly forward until she was touching her hand.

Daishi closed her eyes and sent out a silent prayer for the soul of her fallen friend.


	77. Chapter 77: So Others May Live

Chapter 77: So Others May Live

27th of January, 2016

XCOM Asia HQ, Officer's quarters

Blue light from a monitor illuminated the small office. A haggard figure dressed in an undershirt and pressed officer's slacks sat slumped in a chair behind the desk. The intercom buzzed to life and the man jolted awake. His hand searched frantically before landing on the transmitter.

"Colonel Awo," the man muttered into the mic, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

A deep voice crackled through the speaker, _"Sir, Captain Medve. We've finished sweeping the bottom level. No contact. Motion trackers report all negatives in the vents. We're secure."_

Awo let out a deep sigh before pushing down again. "Copy that, Captain. Get some rest. Lieutenant Green will relieve you."

"_Yes, sir. Out."_

A massive yawn stretched Awo's jaws. He glanced at the computer's clock: 04:44. He had dozed off for fifteen minutes. _Unacceptable, _he thought, reaching for the small bottles on the table. He shook one pill from each onto his palm and swallowed. His right thigh was aching like hell. How he had even managed to fall asleep was a mystery.

One of the bottles contained powerful painkillers, but the other one had a simple label with "Colonel Awo" written over it in black marker. Awo gripped the small plastic container firmly, giving the pills inside a ponderous shake. He thought back to his meeting with Doctor Vahlen last evening.

The life support in the emergency room had been filled with laboriously slow beeps and chimes. Awo had given the Commander one last look before he limped through the doorway. He had surveyed the corridor warily; he couldn't shake the eerie feeling that a chryssalid was still lurking somewhere in the hallways.

"Colonel Awo?"

Awo had turned his attention to Doctor Vahlen at her inquiry. "It's bad, right?" he had asked. "Will he make it?"

Doctor Vahlen had turned to her clipboard with a regretful expression. "We can hope, Colonel. But if I were you I would… prepare. For the worst."

Awo had acknowledged the grim news with a nod. Commander Teasdale's entourage had been caught by the enemy on their way to the command bunker. They had sealed the doors behind them, but not before the Commander had been hit. He hadn't received proper medical attention until after the attack.

"What about my leg, Doctor?"

Vahlen had shifted uncomfortably at the question. "I checked with genetics. The equipment is still intact. But Colonel, I really do not think this is a good idea. There's a reason why the genetic modifications are done within the tube; your body needs to be equilibriated with the MELD substance. Simply treating wounded tissue like this without the necessary precautions is… extremely risky. Uncontrolled growth could lead to tumors or worse yet, cancer or gangrene."

"But it can be done?"

Doctor Vahlen had worn a look of defeat as she had conceded, "Yes, it can be done."

"Good. I need to be up now, not in two weeks. We'll start treatment as soon as medical emergencies are handled."

Vahlen had produced a small medical bottle from her lab coat and placed it in Awo's hand. The Colonel had observed the label curiously: only his name was stenciled on it alongside the dose of four pills per twenty-four hours.

"This is the drug you requested. It will accelerate the generation of pheromones in your adrenal glands and bind them more effectively to the receptors. You should see increased awareness and performance right away," Vahlen had explained. "I assume this goes without saying, but do not exceed the dosage. Even as is, they are likely to cause palpitations, high blood pressure and all of the other symptoms we discussed before your… enhancement."

Awo had laughed cynically. "Shit, Doctor. This fucking attack has already caused all those." His expression had straightened after he realized how coarse his language had been. "Sorry, Doc."

Vahlen had smiled wistfully. "It's quite alright, Colonel." She had placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Please take care of yourself. If there are any problems, feel free to contact me personally. We're all depending on you."

Awo came back from his thoughts. He gave the pills one more shake before placing the bottle on the table. He was already feeling more focused. The weariness of a sleepless night would be held in bay for another few hours. A series of hollow pounds drew his attention to the door.

Awo raised his voice, "Come in!"

Awo was expecting his new assistant, hopefully with coffee. Instead, Major Van Doorn stepped over the threshold looking almost unaffected by the invasion. He had led the defense during the attack and had been a major player in consolidating the outfit in the aftermath that followed, but all he had to show for it were the slightest of dark circles around his eyes. His officer's uniform was clean and pressed. _How do you do it, Doorn?_

Van Doorn lifted an eyebrow as he entered the dark room. He was carrying a steaming coffee mug and a clipboard. "Trying to catch some kip, Colonel?" Van Doorn chuckled as he set the old steel mug down on the table. He flicked the light switch and the room was bathed in bright light.

Awo blinked, surprised. He hadn't even realized the lights were off. _Must've been Jones_, he thought, somewhat peeved. Insteadof making excuses, Awo simply lifted the mug. He drank deep, savoring the hot, bitter liquid on its way down. Extra strong French roast. Black, just as he preferred it. "Thanks. Didn't expect it from you though. What happened to my assistant?"

Van Doorn leaned against the desk. "Caught her in the break room. Told her I'd bring it since I have business with you anyway." The Major's face fell, and he offered Awo the clipboard with a sigh. "Here's the list." Awo accepted the documents with thanks.

An uncharacteristic look of anguish came over Van Doorn's face. He cleared his throat and continued in a quiet voice, "I came straight from the medbay. Sorry for going behind your back, but I told them I'd deliver the news myself." Van Doorn paused, making eye contact with Awo.

"The Commander's dead."

Awo had expected word all night, but it didn't reduce the weight. He slumped back in his chair and scrubbed a hand over his face. Swallowing the rising anxiety, he finally asked, "How did he go?"

"Quietly. Never woke up. The doc said his heart just stopped beating. They couldn't resuscitate him."

Awo pulled open a drawer. From within, he produced a bottle of cognac and a glass. He poured one out and offered it to Van Doorn. "I'll have one of these," the Colonel said, popping another painkiller in his mouth. Van Doorn raised his glass and Awo toasted with his coffee, "To the Commander."

"The best goddamn Commander. Been doing this for a long time and only met a handful of his kind."

Van Doorn drained his liquor in one go. The two officers sat in silence for a while. Eventually Awo sighed and straightened in his chair. "Anything else?"

Van Doorn cleared his throat. "Pete's been working all night with the techs. The Key should be done by dawn."

A predatory spark lit in Awo's eyes. "And we'll finally know exactly where they're coming from. I think we owe these bastards a house call."

"You're goddamn right." Van Doorn's smile slowly receded as he examined Awo. "You know, I was just joking earlier. You should grab an eyeful. We need you sharp. Which reminds me," Van Doorn paused, reaching into his pocket. He produced a palm-sized black box. Flipping it open, he placed it on the table before Awo. "Congratulations on your promotion, Field Commander. Paperwork won't be through for another couple of days, but I think the men need this right now."

Awo picked up the case. The field commander's pins glimmered golden on black satin. Emblazoned on them was a single star rising above the horizon of Earth. Awo had prepared for it all night but now that the moment was at hand, it all felt so pointless. _How do you prepare for something like this?_ _My command… these people are my responsibility now._ He snapped the box shut, a new burden on his shoulders. "In that case, I have something for you, Peter."

Awo grabbed his officer's jacket from the chair's backrest. The drug Vahlen had prescribed him was really kicking in. Awo's fingers worked deftly as he removed his old insignia. Standing up, he avoided putting weight on his right leg as he faced Van Doorn. The old man grinned as the Field Commander worked on his collar, replacing his major's globe with the colonel's star. Awo took a step back and the two officers met eyes. Awo's hand snapped up. Van Doorn answered the salute.

"Colonel."

"Field Commander."

"We'll pull through for this planet."

"You're goddamn right, sir."

The two officers dropped their arms. Van Doorn stepped forward, grabbing his superior in a bear hug. "Vigilo Confido, Awo. Get some rest."

Awo smiled. Removing himself from Van Doorn's grasp, he grinned. "I'm the commander now. No one tells me what to do. Not even Merlin!" The officers burst into laughter at the jest.

Van Doorn left, and Awo seated himself back at the table. He rubbed his aching leg and picked up the clipboard his second-in-command had brought him. The number at the top was higher than he had feared. _Sixty-five. Sixty-five souls lost. Too many._ A realization passed over Awo. _No, make that Sixty-six._

Awo passed eyes over the names organized by department. He recognized some of them, but not nearly enough. _Bill Duncan. Wasn't that one of Petete's friends? Tall oafish type? _Awo shook his head ground operatives had survived with relatively few losses: after all, they were the only ones with any kind of combat experience against the aliens. The fatalities were a married couple who had only recently joined them from Egypt alongside Doubleumc and Cell.

_Oh Cell. If only we had made it sooner… just a few minutes earlier. If Connor hadn't… if my leg hadn't slowed us down… if only… _Awo's thoughts trailed off as a myriad of possibilities came over him. _But we didn't make it sooner. And now you're dead. And there's nothing I can do to change that._

Awo had known of the ground operatives' losses for over twelve hours now. No matter how difficult it was to accept they were gone, at least they had gone down fighting, doing what they could. Maybe that was why the first name in the list of scientists shook him so hard: Redell Conway.

_But my friends call me Red. You can call me Red too, Major Awo. _He remembered the shy introduction the brilliant young scientist had given him. He remembered the open adoration and respect she had shown him during his genetic enhancement. He remembered how her eyes had lit up when he had called her Red. Awo's knuckles turned white as he gripped the clipboard tighter. His stomach was tied in a knot and the back of his throat burned.

Scubaman's words from the past floated into Awo's mind: _Try to remember their names at least. I'm sure many a lady has a picture of the Adorable Dumpling on their wall._ Awo swallowed hard. _I will. I will remember, Red._

The new Commander took a moment to steady his emotions before moving on. Base security had been hit the hardest: thirty-eight deceased. _Jesus Christ, over half their manpower._ One name jumped at Awo from the list of dead blueshirts: James Connor. _He died for me. And then I killed him._

The clipboard trembled. The tightness had spread to his chest. Awo was suddenly keenly aware of his heartbeat and the blood rushing through. His heart skipped a beat, and the rhythm turned irregular. Awo doubled over. His brow glimmered with sweat. He struggled for breath, clutching at his chest as the palpitations intensified.

The horrors rushed back at Awo. Connor, impaled by the chryssalid's claws, dark blood pooling under him. Rising panic as he dashed through the dark hallway. Jensen's blood-shot eyes and snarling teeth. The tormented face of the young blueshirt who had only tried to protect him as he put a bullet between his eyes.

Awo sat hunched in his chair. His clothes were drenched with sweat. His breathing trembled, but his heart had finally settled down. Awo drew a deep breath and reclined in his chair. _I guess this is what the doctor was talking about,_ he thought grimly while wiping the sweat off his brow. _But it's worth it. My people need me._

Awo finished the list before starting again from the top. This was his command now. These were his people. He would remember their names: every last one of them.

* * *

The medbay was packed past capacity. Nurses moved amongst hospital cots under bright fluorescent lights. The air was filled with the scent of pungent disinfectants, but still the stink of clotting blood and festering wounds pierced through. Quiet murmurs and the beeping of EKGs were broken by the occasional groan of pain. Daishi surveyed the room with tired and sad eyes. She found what she was looking for and set for the far-end.

Scubaman was resting with his eyes closed. His broad chest was covered in bandages and the burns on his face glistened with salve. His breathing was deep and the heart monitor beside him showed a strong pulse. Daishi stopped by the foot of his bed. A gentle smile spread on her lips. He would make a strong recovery. _I'll come back another time. Rest well._ She was about to turn away when Scuba's eyes opened.

"You here about that paintjob? Sorry. Left my wallet in my other pants. I'd get up but…" Scuba glanced down his body with a regretful look.

Daishi laughed heartily, crouching beside his bed. "Don't worry about it. I've got good insurance." They met eyes, smiling. Daishi took his hand and Scuba's eyes widened.

"Is it cold?" she asked. Concerned, she began to pull away.

"It's fine," Scuba assured, gripping tighter. "It's cool. I feel like I'm on fire."

Scubaman closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation of the cool synthetic hand in his. There was no need for small talk; what they had gone through together transcended that. They held hands in silence for a while longer before Daishi scooted over to make room for a nurse tending to the man next to Scuba.

"I should go. I'm in the way," she said. "But before that…"

Scuba opened his eyes as Daishi let go of him. He followed as the MEC trooper reached around her neck and removed a single dog tag. She gathered the chains and opened Scuba's hand, placing the plaque on his palm.

"It's Cell's. You should have it."

Scuba brought his hand up and let the small disc hang before him. He inspected Cell's service number and blood type before offering the tag back to Daishi. "_Gracias mi amore_, but this should go to Renzol."

A look of concern washed over Daishi's face. "She didn't want it. I…" Daishi closed her eyes as she cut herself off. _Don't burden him. He has to recover._

"Daishi."

She opened her eyes to meet Scuba's.

"We all have our ways of dealing with grief. Renzol is strong. You worry too much."

A small smile appeared on Daishi's lips. "You're right. I won't." She stood up. "You get some rest."

"_Sí, mamá."_

Scuba was left inside the packed ward. He looked back at the tag. _It was an honor, El Zorro, _Cell's voice whispered in his mind. Scuba closed his eyes and pressed the small metal plaque tight against his injured chest.

* * *

Sixty-six coffins lay beside sixty-six freshly dug graves inside the great natural cavern. Sixty-six new heroes would be laid to rest next to the likes of Frag and Foogleman. A simple podium with the XCOM flag on the front had been erected in front of the graves. A small squad of blueshirts stood at attention behind the podium; it was only fitting they would be the ones to bury those who had fallen in defense of the headquarters.

Awo stepped up to the podium, leaning on his cane for support. A formation of base personnel snapped to attention and saluted him. The Field Commander gazed upon his people. Two dozen. They could only spare two dozen for the ceremony amidst the reconstruction efforts. Awo placed his cane down and returned the salute.

"At ease, XCOM."

Awo leaned against the podium. He took a deep breath and looked up from his notes. "We are gathered here today to honor those who gave their lives in defense of the headquarters. Sixty-six brave souls. Sixty-six brave men and women who fought for what they believed in: Earth. Our home.

"Amidst them lies our beloved Commander Teasdale. His leadership made this campaign possible; he led us to countless victories against the alien invaders. Without him, we all know our losses would have been far greater. But in the end he died like the rest did, protecting what he believed in: a free Earth for all of mankind."

The graveyard was silent. Awo stared at the notes he had so painstakingly prepared. The paper crumpled at the edges as his fists clenched.

"Bullshit."

Awo looked up with intense eyes. He limped around the podium, leaving his notes behind as he stared at the people before him. "It's all bullshit," he repeated in a voice strained with emotion. "I don't know about them, but I can tell you this: I don't give a _fuck_ about the women and children and men out there. I don't give a fuck about this big blue ball and the people on it. Rape and murder and war. _That_ is humanity. I don't give a fuck about that. I fight for you. I fight for _them_." Awo swept his hand at the coffins.

"Commander Teasdale. Engineer Duncan. Doctor Red. Private Connor. Master Sergeant Cell." The last words caught in Awo's throat. His eyes were red as he bit his teeth together. "These people are my brothers and sisters. They are the only family I care about. And they gave their _lives _so that I may live. So that you may live."

Awo ran his eyes over the formation. He saw solemn faces, struggling to contain their grief. Awo swallowed. The lump in his throat refused to move. It was good. It made him know he was alive. A single tear rolled down the Field Commander's cheek as he vowed, "I would gladly give my life for yours, just as I know you would do the same for me."

The cave fell silent following Awo's words. The new Commander closed his eyes, a shaky breath leaving his lips. "That is all, XCOM. Captain Medve," he conceded the floor. He turned away and limped towards the graveyard. One of the blueshirts offered him a shovel and Awo accepted it.

"XCOM! Dismissed!"

Silence followed Captain Medve's booming voice. The unanimous stomping of boots was missing. Awo came to a halt. He turned around, leaning on his shovel.

They were all still there, standing at attention. Captain Medve assumed his position in the corner of the formation. Awo looked over their faces. None had left to make use of what limited free time they had. The Field Commander shook his head, his lips pursed tight.

"You sons of bitches."

The faintest of smiles rose to Medve's lips. "Sir, permission to leave the formation?" the Captain requested.

"Why not? Let's break every rule in the book while we're at it."

Medve turned and started towards the equipment closet. Drake joined him, followed by Kamikaze. Column by column the formation unraveled until the line of people reached the edge of the cave. Medve grabbed a shovel and passed it along. Awo followed in disbelief until every soldier, engineer and cook had a shovel in hand.

"Motherfuckers," the Field Commander muttered. Despite their grief-stricken eyes, his people grinned at him. _I'll be damned if Van Doorn didn't have his hands on this farce,_ Awo thought. But the anguish deep within felt a little more manageable now, and an involuntary smile tugged at his lips.

"Well what are we waiting for? Let's bury our fallen."

The base security and Awo took up the task, and the rest joined them. The Field Commander's shovel sank into a mound of dirt, and the first chunk of fresh earth landed on Cell's coffin.

XCOM worked well into the day, laying their brothers and sisters to rest within the bosom of their home.


	78. Chapter 78: Retaliation

Chapter 78: Retaliation

1st of February, 2016

Siberian tundra

Alien Base Assault, Operation Righteous Payback

Strike-1 assaulting

Commanding: COL Van Doorn

CAPT Medve, MSGT Hypergeek, MSGT DSM, MSGT Renzol, MSGT Petete, MSGT Drake, GSGT Hunterhr

The brief light of day was already passing into afternoon. The last mournful glow set fire to the horizon. Clouds bathed in crimson and evergreens on the far-off foothills were painted in warm pink. In the distance, a single almighty mountain commanded the valley below. The Siberian plain was a vast expanse of unmoving white.

The Skyranger blasted low over the blank canvas of nature. A gale of swirling snow followed in its wake. XCOM was on the hunt.

"_ETA two mikes," _Big Sky crackled over the intercom.

Colonel Van Doorn's booming voice filled the Skyranger: "Alright, people. This is it. E.T.'s about to get a much deserved house call. Trust in your mates and they'll have your back. Pete and Hypergeek will handle the rest. We'll beat this scum on their home turf, with their own weapons. Look alive!"

The Colonel's pep talk kicked up a clamor of acknowledgments. In the front of the aircraft, DSM turned to Drake. The assault was wearing their only suit of titan armor. "Think this'll work?" the scout asked, making sure to keep her voice under the commotion.

Drake's lips tightened in disapproval at the showing of doubt. "It already has," she answered. "They haven't shot us down."

DSM raised her eyebrows and leaned back against her seat. Everyone seemed to be on edge before their largest operation yet. The pre-op banter was replaced by grim determination and vows of vengeance.

The psionic scout closed her eyes and turned her attention inwards. The opera house was ready.

The squad's MEC troopers were sitting in the aft of the aircraft; they would be the first ones out. Renzol's visor was closed. One could have easily mistaken the unmoving suit of metal for a lifeless robot. Petete sat across from her. The Shogun was armed with a Kinetic Strike Module and a shoulder-mounted grenade launcher. On her left shoulder, another module was installed. The Skeleton Key was connected directly to her cybernetic interface.

Reverse-engineered from an outsider shard, the Skeleton Key had finally let XCOM pinpoint the location of the enemy base. In addition to receiving communication signals from the alien network, the Key also transmitted one, masking Strike-1's approach as a UFO returning from deployment.

"How are you feeling, Pete?" Van Doorn asked.

The Shogun closed her eyes. "I'm fine. We're almost there."

Van Doorn placed a hand on her exoskeleton's arm. "Good. We're counting on you. No pressure."

The signals from the Skeleton Key were transferred to an isolated network at HQ. But they also ran through Petete, echoing and vibrating through her exoskeleton, right down to her bones. The Shogun took a deep breath. The sensation was overwhelming; it straddled the fine line between nausea and ecstasy. If she focused hard enough, she could almost make out faint whispers in the shadows.

Petete opened her eyes. "We're here."

"_We're on site. Prepare for landing."_

The squad grabbed their harnesses and braced themselves. The Skyranger bumped and rocked as the powerful thrusters re-oriented. The aircraft jerked and landed with a scream of its suspensions. The ramp lowered, revealing a glimmering sea of snow. Petete's exoskeleton clanged as she waded into the freezing tundra, the powdery snowbanks reaching halfway up her cybersuit.

Last of the operatives unloaded and the Skyranger took off. A whirlpool of snow engulfed the squad. The operatives took up formation, shielding their eyes from the white-out. The snow settled to give clear visibility across kilometers of undisturbed tundra. Only the icy wind howled across the plains.

Van Doorn re-adjusted his massive gauss machine gun. His breath fogged in the cold. "Damn, we're sitting right in the open. Pete. You're on."

The Shogun moved forward, plowing her way through the snow. The vibration was almost unbearable now, rattling her insides and making her eyes water. She let the mysterious force guide her. Renzol joined her as the MEC troopers pioneered through the snow.

Petete stopped. _This is it._ She didn't know how she knew it; she simply _knew_. A budding panic began to rise inside her as she realized she had no idea how to open the entrance.

"Now what?" Hypergeek's inquiry was tinted with impatience. The freezing wind cut right through the carapace armor, making the operatives shift uncomfortably.

Petete closed her eyes. She let go, allowing the Skeleton Key to take over. Her mind and emotions were one with the powerful vibration. She let the power surge through her, channeling it into the first words that came to mind.

"Open Sesame."

The ground under Strike-1 rumbled. Curses filled the air as operatives sought to maintain their footing. A groan of tortured metal echoed across the plains, and the snow before them moved. A torrent of white poured into the depths of earth as the entrance to the alien base opened.

A gaping maw of darkness amidst a sea of pristine snow. Petete peered into the entrance. The sides of the shaft were reinforced with metal, and a bank of snow glowed under dim lighting at the very bottom.

"Set the rappels! That shaft is at least forty feet deep so take care people." Strike-1 sprang into action at Van Doorn's command. The Colonel turned to DSM. "What's the news, DSM?"

The psionic scout's eyes were closed, her brow furrowed in concentration. The soft music within her was the same as ever, but the moment she tried to reach into the depths below, her consciousness was overcome by crackling static. She held her silence for a while longer before opening her eyes. A sigh of frustration left her lips. "Something's wrong. I can't feel anything below us."

Van Doorn raised an eyebrow. "That's good. I'll take a safe breach any day."

"No, that's not it. It's…" DSM's expression was pained as she struggled to explain, "It's like… interference."

"New species? Some kind of psionic jamming technology?"

DSM shook her head. "It's not like any alien mind I've touched. It feels lifeless."

"A sort of jamming device then. What about you two?" Van Doorn turned to Hunterhr and Hypergeek.

"I feel it too. Although I am not trained in reconnaissance," Hunterhr answered.

"_Oui. _Something's different,"Hypergeek agreed.

DSM tapped her rifle and shifted her weight in contemplation. "Interference isn't right – background noise! That's it!" She smiled, satisfied with her articulation. "Our powers should be fine. It's always easier to establish a link when you have eyes-on anyway." The other psi troopers nodded in agreement.

Van Doorn wore a dubious expression as he eyed the trio of operatives. The entire psionic business had always gone right over his head, but the three of them seemed to have reached an agreement on the issue that ran below the surface. "Alright. I trust you on this."

"Sir, rappels set!" Drake reported.

Van Doorn raised his hand. "Alright, this is it. There's no intel on enemy presence at Rendezvous Point Beachhead. Be prepared for anything. MECs on point." Petete and Renzol stepped up to the entrance. "Steady… _Breach!_"

Petete led the charge by leaping off the edge. Vertigo grasped the pit of her stomach as the metal walls flew past her. She landed with a deafening crash. The suspensions in her legs broke the fall, but the impact rattled her hard nonetheless. A cloud of snow kicked up around her. The MEC trooper raised her railgun and surged forward. A second crash followed as Renzol touched down.

Petete made it through the veil of white and laid eyes on the room before her: a huge metal platform suspended within a great cavern. The rocky ceiling arched high above her and the walls stretched out on either side. The installation's architecture was truly alien: the corners were round and the walls and floors had bizarre contours in them. Petete had landed on one of two elevated walkways. Rows of green stasis tanks stood in-between the catwalks. More tanks flanked either side. The room ended in a metal wall that didn't quite reach the top of the cavern. Everything was still, but not silent. A low pulsing hum filled her ears over the crystal's vibrations.

"Room clear," Petete reported over the team radio channel.

Six armored figures rappelled down in pairs. Strike-1 formed up without a word, ready for contact from any direction. With the squad inside, Petete severed her connection to the Skeleton Key. The vibration disappeared, leaving her feeling blissfully still.

They took a listening halt, but nothing came. Van Doorn whispered into his mic, "Zero Actual, this is General. We are objective Loud Nemesis now. No contact on Beachhead. Proceeding to objective Furious Harpy, over."

Awo's voice buzzed through the comms, _"General, Zero Actual copies all. Good hunting. Out."_

One of the glowing stasis tanks drew Van Doorn's attention. A human silhouette was barely visible behind the glass. Bubbles rose from the bottom, dancing past the figure. The sight reminded Van Doorn of his time inside the tube. He had a suspicion these people were subjected to experiments far more invasive than simple pupil enhancements.

"Looks like we found the abductees," Van Doorn uttered.

"My God. So many," Drake said, running her eyes over the rows. The number of tanks must have totaled close to one hundred, and still the rows stretched on.

Hunterhr's mouth was a thin line. "Inhuman."

Van Doorn glanced at the medic with a raised eyebrow. "Well that would be why they're the aliens. Let's keep this tight." The Colonel kept his voice low to avoid an echo. He gave the hand signal for the MECs to push forward.

The force field covering the entrance glimmered in hues of violet and blue. Van Doorn pushed up against the wall and Strike-1 stacked up behind him, preparing to breach. He looked back at DSM with a clear expression.

_Anything new?_

The scout shook her head.

The Colonel found a familiar glyph on the door controls and swiped it with two fingers, making the force field retract.

The walkway continued into the next room, flanked by waist-high metal railings. A drop into the abyss below waited on either side. Short ramps separated from the catwalk, leading up to platforms that overlooked the room. The main walkway split the room down the middle, connecting a larger platform at the end. Two mutons and a mechtoid patrolled while four sectoids tapped away on the surrounding terminals. One of the mutons turned curiously as the door opened. A cylindrical device arced into the room. A deafening detonation coupled with a blinding flash drove the alien to howl in surprise as his world was consumed by white.

The MEC troopers burst into the room. They took five massive strides and slammed their railguns down. Their shoulder-mounted launchers thumped in unison. Crashing thunder filled the cave. The front consoles went up in a wall of explosions, sending sectoids screaming for their lives and scurrying for cover.

Drake and Medve slid the last meters into cover behind the MECs. The platform was covered in smoke and raining debris. A massive stream of plasma emerged out of the destruction. The energy connected squarely with Renzol's cybersuit. Medve raised his gauss autorifle behind the Archer. The weapon roared to life as the Captain fired in the enemy's direction.

The rest of Strike-1 were stuck in a choke point with limited lines of engagement. "Push up, _push up!_" Van Doorn bellowed.

The Colonel led the way, dashing in low through the entrance. He leapt up a ramp and into cover behind a terminal. The massive gauss machine gun crashed onto the control panel, crushing alien tech as Van Doorn set up a firing position. The dust from the explosions was settling; Van Doorn set his sights on the firing mech and squeezed the trigger.

The rapid cracking of smaller firearms were nothing compared to the gauss machine gun. The deafening thumping could be felt in every operative's chest. Alloy rounds tore into the mechtoid. The enemy reeled from the impact, swinging wildly with its cannons. The core of the alien mech exploded and the useless exoskeleton crashed to the deck.

Plasma whiffed past Van Doorn's head. The gunner's pupils adjusted and he swung his weapon on target, firing in tight bursts. Debris kicked up from the devastated terminals. The sectoid's head ruptured in a gush of brain matter. Van Doorn shifted his aim to the last remaining enemy. The muton was nailed against the back wall. The alien's body shook violently from hammering high caliber rounds. Van Doorn let go of the trigger and the enemy slid down, the wall beyond slathered yellow.

Smoke drifted upwards from the destroyed control panels. Mangled sectoid corpses littered the scorched platform. Sparks crackled within the mechtoid's crumpled core. Van Doorn didn't even take a brief moment to savor the silence following their successful breach. He drew breath and released a resounding shout, "We caught E.T. napping! Move up! Keep the pressure on!"

The squad rushed up to the next door. Drake slammed the butt of her weapon into the control panel and the wide force field shuddered and failed. An elerium power core stood in the middle of the hallway, casting its green glow upon the surrounding walls. The short corridor bent to the right. Drake dashed up and pushed herself against the wall.

The assault swung out, alloy cannon raised. The hallway opened onto a wide ledge overlooking a large hall. Stairs on either side led down to the floor. Two rows of steel grey racks ran through the room. Suspended from them were small stasis tanks filled with green liquid. The back and sides of the hall were elevated, filled with more terminals and grotesque alien surgery tables, stained dark brown.

A smoke grenade bloomed atop the stairs. Renzol and Petete led the charge, followed closely by Drake. They dashed through the smoke and into cover behind a large box in the middle of the ledge. Drake pressed against the alien device. She leaned around the corner and gained eyes on the hall.

"Contact 12 o'clock! We got four mutons, end of the hall! Seen?"

Petete stepped out of cover. A massive barrage of green energy scorched her shoulder on the way past. "Seen," she reported shortly and assumed a defensive posture.

The grenade launcher let out a hollow thud. The explosive arced across the long hall. Everything shook as a terminal went up in flames. A plasma shot terminated squarely against the Shogun's breastplate and Petete bit down hard.

The rest of Strike-1 had moved to cover through the smoke. Medve and Van Doorn took firing positions on either sides of the box. A thunderstorm engulfed the hall as the gauss machine guns answered fire with fire. The mutons ducked behind their cover, firing blind shots over the terminals. The complex holograms above the panels distorted as alloy rounds flew past, snapping and pinging off the wall beyond. Stasis tanks were smashed, spilling thick green ooze everywhere. The viscous sludge contained rivulets of red and partially dissolved body parts. Some of them were human.

"Why are they so defensive?" Drake shouted. The assault was holding her gauss machine pistol, hunched behind the low wall surrounding the ledge.

Hypergeek dashed behind Petete. The psionic engineer winced as the grenade launcher above him thumped, nearly taking the air out of his chest. A crashing explosion followed and Hypergeek flicked his rifle to semi-automatic. He took aim and tapped away at the enemy. He struck one of the mutons in the shoulder. The creature slumped behind its cover before sending a wild reply high into the wall behind Hypergeek.

"She's right! This isn't like mutons at all!" Medve roared in-between volleys of suppressive fire.

A huge force field behind the mutons retracted. A large alien clad in blood-red armor and wielding a massive plasma weapon walked into the hall. The elite paid no heed to the flying bullets; it held its posture high, bellowing orders in a guttural language. Five more mutons swarmed into the room behind it. Hypergeek caught movement out of the corner of his eye.

"_Merde! _Contact, two o'clock!"

The enemy emerged from behind the surgery tables. The cyberdisc's chromed surface glimmered bright under the lights. Its drone support released a volley of alloy rounds that hammered XCOM's position.

"_Disc, disc! _Ten o'clock!" DSM shouted.

More mutons rushed into the hall. The green aliens vaulted over their defensive position and down to the floor. A massive storm of plasma covered their assault. The cyberdisc on the right spun open and launched a rapidly beeping grenade.

"_Grenade!"_

The roaring explosion consumed Hypergeek's warning. Drake screamed as she was tossed over the edge. She swung madly with her arms before crashing hard on the floor. The titan armor broke her fall and she rolled to her stomach. Her armor was smoking as she scrambled into cover. A hail of plasma devastated the tanks on the rack, dousing the assault in green sludge.

"Focus the armor! Suppressing fire to our front!" Van Doorn shouted.

Hypergeek lowered his rifle. The mutons were moving from cover to cover down below, closing on Drake who fired her autopistol blindly. Hypergeek observed the flanks: the cyberdisc on the left hammered Renzol with its main cannon. The second one opened fire and Petete's exoskeleton rocked hard. Hypergeek lost his balance from the impact. He shot a hand out to break his fall. The thunder of the firefight was overwhelming, all-consuming.

Hypergeek pushed back into cover against the MEC. He observed the rest of the squad. Hunterhr was in cover behind the large box. The medic stepped back, jaw clenched, and fired a volley at the cyberdisc before retreating back into safety. DSM was holed inside the bend, firing bursts around the corner. Plasma struck Medve. The Captain's curse was drowned by the constant battering of cannons and firearms. They were losing.

Hypergeek sharpened his will. He focused on his ego; the very center point of his being. It formed into his image, shining amidst endless darkness. The act was effortless and clean, the result of disciplined training and tempered resolve. _"Give yourselves to me. Now!"_

The mental command took Hunterhr by surprise, rocking against his psionic will. He pressed against the cover and looked back at Hypergeek.

DSM kept firing. Even through the dampening background noise, Hypergeek felt the response; a rapid succession of angry chords. Fury flared within Hypergeek. DSM's melodramatic expression of the Gift had always irritated him. And now she dared refuse him.

"_That was an ORDER!"_

DSM's eyes widened as Hypergeek pierced the veil of her mind. The engineer tapped into the flowing music and drained deep. The tunes were transformed into raw power as energy flowed from mind to mind. DSM slumped to the ground. Hypergeek's ego welled with power, radiating brighter in the darkness. Another mind connected with him. Hunterhr's mouth was a thin line as he fed the engineer his energy.

Hypergeek brimmed with the psionic power of three beings. For a brief moment, he saw a coiled device shining with brilliant golden light. The engineer pushed the image away and kept his focus, holding onto the power. He turned and laid eyes on the enemy.

The muton elite barked gutteral orders at the end of the hall. The alien was flanked by two mutons while the rest advanced down below. Hypergeek's eyes flashed with pure energy.

The elite's mind was more focused than the regular mutons'. Hypergeek forced himself on the alien, and its focus was quickly tested. The muton fought back; a raging bull kicking and bellowing furiously. Hypergeek poured every iota of his considerable power into one massive push. The resistance he had originally come up against crumbled. His ego slipped past the elite's defenses.

Hypergeek's body was heavy and strange. His breathing rasped ragged through a respiratory device. Overwhelming vertigo passed over him as his vision doubled; he was staring himself in the eye from across the hall. The moment passed. Hypergeek's vision settled, and he was fully inside.

Hypergeek tore open the alien's mind. Memories, subconscious, instincts, personality… he rampaged through them all in an instant, twisting and turning and shredding. He found the motor controls and seized them with an iron fist. Instinctive knowledge of an alien body flooded him. The weapon controls were easy to find; they were in the very center of the muton's being. A vision of large cloning vats in a dark hall flashed in Hypergeek's mind, accompanied by feelings of dread and panic. He shoved the unnecessary emotions aside and locked his ego in place.

The heavy plasma rifle swung on target. Point-blank plasma eradicated the head of the muton next to him. Hypergeek turned around. The weapon pulsed once and the next muton's face disappeared in a torrent of green fire. Hypergeek aimed down the hall and pulled back on the weapon's clutch.

The plasma cannon rumbled in his massive hands. Muton after muton slumped to the ground under the relentless stream of devastating elerium. One alien crashed into a rack of tanks, its back melting away. Another howled as green energy eviscerated its legs. More tanks shattered, raining sludge upon the battlefield. A muton turned his way. Plasma connected squarely with its chest and the alien was thrown on its back.

Hypergeek kept firing. Another enemy fell. The psi operative's movements grew ponderous; the weapon weighed heavy in his unwieldy hands. His heart beat to an erratic rhythm. His blood turned to thick sludge. A caged presence howled in rage and fear somewhere in the depths of his mind. He was losing control. Hypergeek swung the weapon on another muton. The cannon's rumbling ended abruptly, and the jet of plasma struck wide of the mark. The weapon was empty.

Hypergeek dropped the heavy repeating weapon. The muton's presence was on him now. Its enraged roars shook his ego, and Hypergeek could feel control slip away. With an erratic jerk he tore a grenade off his belt.

"_A parting gift, my friend,"_ Hypergeek mocked the struggling alien. He pressed the switch and the explosive began its rapid countdown. The alien's hand trembled as two entities fought for control. Hypergeek won. He jammed the grenade into the seam between his helmet and chest armor.

The explosion knocked Hypergeek down. His head slammed hard on the floor. A high ringing filled his ears. He smelled the stench of burning elerium. The engineer rolled his head around. His entire body felt heavy and foreign. He tried to bring a hand to his throbbing neck, but the limb refused to obey. Hypergeek slapped himself in the face. A scattered thought crossed his mind: _I guess that works._ The taste and smell of blood rushed his senses. He brought a hand up. A red smear ran across his palm.

Hypergeek struggled to a sitting position. He was lightheaded and his nose was bleeding. Gauss machine guns roared. The engineer swayed. Across the hall, the muton elite was a smoking pile of red armor. Its head and shoulders had been reduced to a wet stain on the floor. Hypergeek sniffed back blood and grinned. Something grabbed him and dragged him to safety.

Hunterhr's face appeared in Hypergeek's vision. He frowned as the medic grabbed his head roughly and felt for signs of damage.

"Let go!" Hypergeek managed to spit out despite his swollen tongue. _"Putain de merde!"_ He grabbed Hunterhr by the wrists and twisted. The medic let go.

"Hypergeek, listen to me! I felt that release of energy. You need to sit down!"

A litany of French profanities left Hypergeek's lips as he scrambled up. He took one step. His stomach surged all the way up to his throat, and his heart lunged down to his bowels. Hypergeek collapsed. A torrent of blood and vomit splattered the floor. Hunterhr was quick to his side. He rolled the engineer to the recovery position and continued with his ruthless inspection.

The battle was coming to a close. Down on ground floor, Drake dashed from rack to rack. She stepped out and her alloy cannon boomed. The last muton flew back before settling in a heap on the floor. One cyberdisc remained. With its allies fallen, the robot attempted retreat. Van Doorn's machine gun hammered it relentlessly. The cyberdisc's armor cracked under the constant barrage. Like a crash landing UFO, the disc plummeted towards the ground.

"_Shit!_"

Drake dove aside. Her titan armor screamed as it ground against the floor. The cyberdisc plowed through the tank rows in a cacophony of crashing metal. It obliterated the cover the assault had used only moments ago before smashing against the wall. Drake covered her armored neck. The explosion shook the hall. Debris rained on her, clattering off the surface of her power armor.

"Consolidate! _Consolidate!"_ Van Doorn boomed. Drake struggled back to her feet and joined her squad. The Colonel looked around their devastated firing position. "Ammo-Cas! We all good?"

DSM was sitting against the wall inside the bend. The scout clutched her rifle to her chest and performed a clumsy reload. She swallowed laboriously and nodded. "I'm fine," she croaked, "just light-headed."

"Hypergeek is down," Hunterhr reported matter-of-factly.

"He take a hit? What the hell happened?" Van Doorn demanded. He turned to face Hunterhr. The medic had raised Hypergeek to a sitting position and was kneeling before the engineer.

"_Deux._ Two," Hypergeek counted the fingers the medic was holding up. "I can stand. Help me up." The engineer's voice was strung tight and lacking patience. Hunterhr grabbed him around the shoulders and lifted him up. They turned to face the stern visage of Van Doorn.

"The hell did I just witness?"

"Mind control," Hypergeek said. He hawked loudly and spat. A glob of red mucus landed on the floor.

"What? Who was?"

Hypergeek frowned at Van Doorn's lack of grasp on the situation. "I did," he explained, wiping blood from his face. "I controlledthe enemy."

Strike-1 was silent in stunned disbelief. Van Doorn's eyes narrowed. He looked from Hypergeek to the devastated battlefield. A dozen muton corpses littered the floor. Most of them had fallen towards their position. Even though Van Doorn had seen it himself, it was impossible to believe. "That was you?" he finally managed to ask.

"_Oui_," Hypergeek answered shortly. The engineer removed himself from Hunterhr's hold. He swayed a little, but managed to stay up on his own.

"You alright? Is he alright?" Van Doorn asked, turning to Hunterhr.

"Yes, I believe so," the medic answered, "The bleeding is not internal. The vertigo is likely from a concussion. Psionic feedback is my leading theory. I do not really know; no man has ever done something like this."

"And her? Was she a part of this?" Van Doorn turned to DSM. The scout had risen to her feet on her own, but she held onto the wall for support. Her dark eyes were full of spite. She glared past Van Doorn and straight at Hypergeek.

"I'm fine. I _assisted_," DSM hissed the words.

Hypergeek spared the scout one dismissive look before turning to Van Doorn. "We should keep moving."

"Agreed," Van Doorn nodded. "When I said we'd beat them with their own weapons, this isn't exactly what I had in mind!" The Colonel released a booming laugh and slammed a hand on Hypergeek's back. A rare satisfied smile graced the uptight engineer's lips.

A narrow antechamber connected the hall to the next room. The force fields were open, and soft crimson light swarmed through the entrance. The MEC troopers burst out in front as Strike-1 breached the last room.

A wide ramp led up to a platform that dominated the middle of the large hall. More terminals and computers lined the walls. The squad carefully moved up the ramp. The MEC troopers were bathed in bright colors as they reached the top. An alien device projected a hologram in every visible hue. The rays of light were in constant motion; as soon as the colors seemed to form into something tangible, they shifted. Van Doorn followed the dancing glow curiously as he passed the device by.

Beyond the platform, an otherworldly glow filled the hall. A pillar of golden light rose towards the ceiling. There was something off-putting about the light; it seemed to flicker in and out of existence, humming quietly on the edge of consciousness. Hypergeek followed the brilliant shine down.

"That's it. That's the source," Hypergeek said in awe.

The light emerged from a coiled device. It was made of gleaming alloy, but the design was closer to a sculpture than any communications device Hypergeek had ever seen. Its core pulsed with brilliant psionic energy.

"It's like the Skeleton Key," Petete said. Hypergeek looked up. The Shogun's visor was retracted, and the golden light reflected off the edge of the titanium glass. Hypergeek saw his own awe mirrored on her face.

"You feel it too?" Hypergeek asked. He was astounded that the woman whose laid back attitude brought his blood to a boil could also sense the psionic signal.

Petete nodded and lifted a massive hand to shield her face. She peered through metal fingers at the blinding light, even if it made her eyes water.

Drake surveyed the rest of the stage. The alien device stood on a podium behind the tallest control panels they had yet seen. Movement caught her eye: the bony legs of a sectoid disappeared behind a terminal.

"Contact! Terminal on the left!" the assault announced.

The squad's weapons snapped on target. A moment of silence passed, but nothing happened.

"It's not engaging," Van Doorn said. "Pete, Drake and Renzol. You're with me. Medve, provide covering fire."

"Roger," the Captain acknowledged.

Van Doorn led his squad all the way back down the ramp and around the room. They approached the enemy position slowly from the side, weapons raised. Drake took point and climbed up the stairs.

The sectoid commander was hunched behind the control panel. It cowered away from the sight of the assault in titan armor. The four operatives spread out, all guns trained on the enemy. Van Doorn's eyes narrowed above the raised gauss machine gun. He squeezed the trigger briefly and the sectoid's head ruptured.

Drake lowered her shotgun. "Damn. Should've brought the arc thrower."

Van Doorn shrugged. "The Doc already had one. Hopefully it's enough." The Colonel crossed over to the deceased alien and nudged the corpse with his boot. "Cowardly little thing. Must have been scared shitless after losing its muton buddies."

"So this is what they were protecting?" Drake asked.

Van Doorn turned to look at the alien device. All he could see was a coiled piece of metal – most likely an antenna – that radiated bright yellow light. But the way Petete and Hypergeek were enraptured by the device made him think otherwise. This was big. Van Doorn had no doubt it was the next piece in the puzzle to the aliens' true intentions on Earth. The Colonel reached to key his comms.

"Zero actual, this is General. We are Sleeping Olympus now. House call complete. All troublemakers taken care of. I say again, house call complete, over."

* * *

The familiar glow of the hologlobe filled Mission Control with blue light. Three officers were gathered around a strategy table on the cusp of midnight. The meeting revolved around the alien base XCOM had raided and the strange device found within.

"Remember that sectoid commander the men captured back in November?"

Awo looked up from the papers at Central Officer Bradford's question. "Yes. What about it?"

"Turns out those plans and blueprints Doctor Vahlen extracted out of it were related to this particular alien device."

Awo straightened his back and rubbed his chin. He slowly shifted his weight to and from his right leg. His recovery was coming along quickly now that the MELD treatment had begun. "What does she want to do with it? Petete and Hypergeek seemed convinced it's a communications device."

Bradford nodded. "The Doctor agrees. She wants to build a relay out of it based on the model extracted from the sectoid. I really don't get what she was on about; something about interdimensional signaling."

"Do it. You have the paperwork?"

Bradford handed Awo a clipboard. The Field Commander quickly eyed through the directive before signing his name at the bottom. Bradford accepted the clipboard back. "What about the risks, sir? Shen was quite worried over the initial models for the facility. Said it could be a security risk."

Awo shook his head. "I don't care about the risks. We have to keep moving forward. These bastards could strike back at any moment."

It had been five days since the attack on XCOM headquarters. Awo had issued a statement to the council nations saying XCOM would be consolidating its defenses and was unable to respond to alien hostilities outside of its own territory. The attacks around the world had only intensified. Ottawa had been consumed by the flames of an alien terror attack. Dozens of abductions had been reported world-wide. The Council's air forces struggled to keep up with the ever-increasing UFO activity. The raid on the alien base was unlikely to help matters: it had turned out to be a research facility, not the staging point of the invaders' attacks. At least Project Skylance would finally have its first full test flight tomorrow.

Van Doorn crossed his arms pensively. "The real question is: why haven't they already?"

"The Colonel's right," Bradford chimed in, "The aliens clearly have the resources to mount a second attack. Hell, they should just be able to nuke us straight out of orbit!"

Awo's jaw tightened. The thought hadn't left him alone since the attack. But he didn't have the answer. No one did. It made him feel helpless.

"It's a test."

The officers turned around in surprise. Hypergeek was standing by the hologlobe. He was wearing combat trousers and a patient's gown. A huge amount of gauze circled his head, holding bandages against his skull.

"Hey, easy now. You should be in the medbay," Van Doorn said while stepping forward. "How did you get in here anyway?" The Colonel glanced towards the open entrance. The base security standing guard seemed oblivious to the situation.

Hypergeek turned to face the officers. His face was pale and his eyes were unfocused. They stared off into the distance, into some unknown void never before seen by man. The voice that left his lips was full of awe, like a priest delivering a sermon.

"It's all a trial. They're testing us."


	79. Chapter 79: Supernova

Chapter 79: Supernova

7th of February, 2016

XCOM Asia HQ, Mission Control

Strike-1 on standby

Commanding: COL Van Doorn

LT Volatile, MSGT Renzol, MSGT Merlin, MSGT Kilroy, MSGT Orgun, MSGT Iku, GSGT Hunterhr

The hologlobe cast a blue glow across Awo's face. The violet signal had moved out of bounds of their satellite network and disappeared two hours ago. All of the preparations were in place, they just had to wait.

The Hyperwave Beacon XCOM had recovered from the alien base had been reverse-engineered into a relay based on Doctor Vahlen's research. The facility had been brought online 24 hours ago. The activation had sent tremors throughout the headquarters, inciting small-scale panic; memories of the alien attack were still fresh in people's minds. Doctor Vahlen had pulled through in the end. The Hyperwave Relay had stabilized, and a new signal had been transmitted to XCOM's satellite network. A previously cloaked UFO had been detected, traversing Earth's atmosphere at incredible velocity. It faded in and out of radar as it passed over satellite-surveyed territory. The importance of the ship being cloaked was not lost on Awo: he made it priority one to take down.

"ETA two minutes, based on the calculations," Central Officer Bradford said, stepping next to Awo. "It'll work."

"It has to," Awo replied, cold and determined.

A siren squawked. "Radar contact, sir," an ATO reported, "Bogey one zero niner bearing one-one-three, angels eight-two. Speed four point five." The man looked up from his screen. "It's Overseer, sir."

The hologlobe brought up a view of mainland China. The violet signal moved over the country. Its speed clocked in at four and half times the speed of sound; something not attainable by regular aircraft.

"Scramble fighters and get Strike-1 ready!" Awo shouted. He turned to Bradford. "Do the honors, Central Officer."

"My pleasure," Bradford said with a grim smile. The Central Officer touched a finger to his earpiece. "Casper, this is Central. You're cleared for takeoff, over."

"_Central, Casper. Copy loud and clear. Time to take this baby for a ride. Over."_

"Good hunting. Out." Bradford cut the link and gave the orders, "Open launch tube one! Get tubes two and three ready. I want Shotgun and Timezone after him ASAP."

Awo followed Bradford's commands thoughtfully. The Central Officer was even more keyed-up than usual. When his ATO's seemed insufficiently motivated, he saw fit to offer encouragement.

"We have one shot here, people," Bradford barked. "Any screw-ups here means you'll be cleaning the heads for a month. Understood?"

"Yes sir," came the chorus of acknowledgments.

"_Understood?!" _Bradford reiterated, clearly disappointed with their lack-luster response.

"_Yes sir!_" came the re-doubled enthusiasm of his officers.

Awo chuckled and clapped a hand on Bradford's shoulder. He leaned in and dropped his voice. "They'll do just fine, Bradford."

* * *

The Firestorm blasted across the blue sky. The fighter jet's design was a hybrid between a Raven and a UFO. Forcefields covered the elerium turbines, and the main thruster spewed smokeless fire. Inside the cockpit, Colonel "Casper" Fallis was glued to his seat by G-forces brought about by an astounding acceleration up to Mach 5.5. Despite the high velocity, the aircraft was stable and maneuverable. The Colonel looked down at the radar. The bandit had shifted course. He readjusted his bearing.

The Firestorm pierced the clouds on its ascent towards the stratosphere. The sun's light shone brilliant in the February afternoon, but grew darker and darker with each kilometer climbed. Colonel Fallis checked his radar. He was almost there.

"Central, Casper. Approaching target. ETA one mike to eyes on. Over."

"_Casper, this is Central. Copy that. Shotgun and Timezone are ETA 20 mikes. You'll have to do this one solo. Central out."_

Colonel Fallis breathed deep, savoring the oxygen through his mask. His thumb caressed the weapons' controls. Dual laser cannons were strapped under his wings, and a high-speed electromagnetic pulse blaster was mounted at the head of the Firestorm. The last seconds passed by agonizingly slow until finally, the UFO came into view against the dark blue sky. It was speeding right towards him.

"Central, Casper. I have visual on the bandit. Request weapons' clearance."

"_Casper, Central. You're cleared hot."_

Colonel Fallis snapped his safety off. He gripped the control stick tight, and the leather of his pilot's gloves scrunched quietly in anticipation. The alien ship approached rapidly now. Fallis led his target and fired.

The gatling lasers illuminated the air with bright red energy. The barrage hosed across the Overseer UFO's bow, splashing into shields with little discernible damage. The UFO took evasive action, diving immediately down.

"_Shit!"_

Fallis banked hard. Despite its speed, the Firestorm turned with great agility. The Colonel gritted his teeth as blood rushed from his head, closing his vision to pinpricks. The aircraft wheeled around. Fallis was on the enemy's tail as they barreled furiously downwards. He squeezed the trigger and another barrage of lasers scorched the UFO. The Overseer banked left.

The Firestorm followed, capable of much higher maneuvering than Fallis' body. He nearly blacked out following the steep bank of the bandit, but it hardly tested the limits of the new craft. The Overseer took another sharp turn left, and Fallis guided the Firestorm to follow.

A fighter pilot's intuition screamed in the back of Fallis' mind; he pushed down on the controls instead. A hail of plasma whiffed past him. The Colonel pulled hard on the stick, coming in below the Overseer. The gatling lasers hammered a full salvo into the UFO, piercing the shields before it pulled away. Blood rushed back to Fallis' head. He was winning.

The dogfight continued fast and relentless. Fallis kept the smaller Firestorm tight on the Overseer's tail. The UFO banked left then right before surging upwards, attempting to outmaneuver its adversary. The Firestorm followed. The UFO lunged downwards, gaining speed as it barreled towards the troposphere in an attempt to outrun the more agile fighter. It briefly passed Fallis' mind that they were trying to push his body to the limit; they knew his flesh would fail before his machine. The Colonel stayed relentless in his pursuit. The near black-out did nothing to stop the Firestorm from closing the distance.

The Overseer's stern cannons flared and the veteran pilot kicked expertly on the pedals. The aircraft spun into a roll at five times the speed of sound. The incoming elerium barrage missed him by wide meters. The laser cannons spat hot energy, forcing the UFO's shields down and eviscerating its armor. The enemy steered away. Smoke trailed after it.

The Colonel stalked his bleeding prey, accelerating after the rapidly descending UFO. The enemy's stern cannons flared with green fire once more. Fallis pushed hard and the Firestorm lunged downwards. The fighter continued its descent, steeper and faster than the UFO. The Colonel clenched his jaw and pulled hard on the control stick. G-forces nailed him to his seat, and the Firestorm leveled. He was on a collision course with the UFO's underbelly. He hit the afterburners, and the elerium generators went into overdrive.

The EMP cannon hummed as energy flooded its circuits. The Overseer was right before Fallis. He pushed the trigger. The short-range weapon pulsed in rapid succession. Brilliant beams of electromagnetic energy shot through the UFO. _Just a little more,_ Fallis thought. He held down the trigger and kept on target. The UFO filled his vision now. The crash was imminent.

Fallis shouted furiously and jammed down on the control stick. The Firestorm barely grazed the bottom of the Overseer with a howling screech. Sirens wailed. Both aircraft barreled into a wall of clouds. White surged past Fallis as he kept an eye on the control panel to maintain his bearing. Color peeked through the wall of clouds. The Firestorm burst out onto a clear sky.

The badlands south of the Gobi Desert stretched on below Fallis. Snow still speckled the dunes on the desert far to the north. South of the badlands, he could see the snaking Great Wall of China. To his side, the Overseer UFO barreled downwards. The enemy's thrusters had shut down. The UFO was executing emergency maneuvers, attempting to level out in order to slow down the destructive plunge towards terra firma. The disk struck the ground between the desert and the badlands with a satisfying splash of sand and dust, skipping and jumping until it came to a skidding halt. Colonel Fallis keyed his mic.

"Central, Casper. Splash one bandit. I say again, UFO down."

Bradford's reply was drowned by the cacophony of celebration in Mission Control.

* * *

Afternoon sun peeked through the veil of clouds, painting the dusty badlands in varying shades of brown and red. The air was dry and frigid: winter was just passing. The Skyranger disappeared over a jutting ridge with a roar of its powerful jets. Strike-1 had disembarked into a shallow canyon on a rocky cliffside one klick from the crash site. The squad formed into a line and Kilroy led them up a narrow gulch.

The assault reached the top and crouched. She kept a low profile and dashed to a pile of rocks. The terrain led down in jagged ridges and rocky outcroppings before eventually plateauing. A rugged scar cut across the plains below; the arid ground had been torn open where the UFO had plowed its way through. The wreckage itself was mostly intact. The area surrounding the crash site was littered with alloy debris.

Iku crouched next to Kilroy. The sniper shouldered his gauss long rifle and peered through the scope. The crashed UFO was still. The only movement was the now-thinning smoke rising from the craft's stern and sand cutting across the tops of dunes.

"Nothing's moving down there," Iku reported.

A supersonic blast deafened the squad. The operatives tensed for a moment before looking up. A trio of fighter jets passed over the crash site. At the head of the formation, the Firestorm gleamed black in the sun. The rumbling thunder echoed off the cliffside as the air patrol gained distance.

Van Doorn took the attention of the squad. "Iku, provide cover from this position. Fire on my signal. If we hit contact, go loud."

"Roger."

Van Doorn addressed the rest of Strike-1, "We don't know what awaits us. But I'd bet my left nut that UFO isn't empty. Whatever's inside is big, and since we're talking xenos here, that also means deadly. HQ thinks this is some kind of command ship since the bug-eyed bastards went to the trouble of hiding it in an interdimensional cloaking field – whatever the hell that means. Watch your fire around any sensitive looking equipment. Let's leg-it, troops!"

The MECs took point as the squad descended down the hillside. Their massive boots plowed deep cuts in the rocky ground, raising dust and grit in their wake. Once they reached the next ridge the infantry followed, covering each other in leaps and bounds.

Merlin slid down the dusty slope and into the bottom of the last ravine. Withered bushes jutted out from under stones like bony fingers. Merlin double-checked her weapon's load, and the ammunition count appeared on her HUD. The MEC battle rifle had a twenty round capacity. It utilized the same magnetized technology as the railgun, only packed into a smaller anti-infantry setup. The railgun had higher armor penetration but featured cooling times in-between shots while the battle rifle was capable of providing rapid semi-automatic fire support.

Merlin began scaling up the last rise with Renzol right behind her. The Valkyrie's comms buzzed and Van Doorn's voice came through: _"Dan'Hax, General. Halt. Contact at UFO."_

"Copy that General," Merlin replied. She stopped and raised her massive left fist. The Kinetic Strike Module was bolted to her forearm, and the muzzle of an elerium-infused flamethrower protruded past her elbow. Renzol halted at the signal.

Van Doorn spoke rapidly into his mic at the bottom of the ravine. Once the orders to Iku had been issued, he led the squad up the slope. The Colonel crouched down next to Merlin. He spoke in a hushed tone, mirroring the orders in gestures: "Sectopod. Three drones. Five elites. Firing position on top of the ridge. Merlin, push left and down the cliffside. Attack on Iku's mark."

"Roger that." Merlin understood Van Doorn's intentions: she would draw fire while the rest of the squad rained hell from above. The prospect sent a sick thrill through her; she had done multiple run-of-the-mill abduction operations after her augmentation but this was the moment her training had been building up to. She wouldn't just be in the breach; she _was_ the breach. _Five elites and a 'pod… that's a hell of a lot of firepower._ The thought brought a wicked grin to her lips. _Wait till they get a load of me_.

Strike-1 halted near the top of the ridge. The infantry went prone and crawled up the last meters, slow and silent. Merlin prepared herself at the squad's left flank. All it would take was four leaping strides and she'd be on top. She was psyched up, her neck and shoulders tense. Merlin heard Van Doorn give the command. She flexed her amputated legs. The exoskeleton responded and hissed quietly.

The thunderous bang of the gauss long rifle echoed over the badlands. Merlin burst forward. Her legs kicked up dust and sent rocks bouncing down into the ravine below. Strike-1 opened fire, and the snapping and cracking of gauss rifles filled the air. Merlin reached the top and leapt.

The Valkyrie landed with a crash that shook the hillside, releasing an avalanche of rocks. A cloud of dust rose in her wake as she slid down the slope. She raised her battle rifle and gained eyes on.

The muton elites had scattered into what cover they could find on the rocky plain. The sectopod stood in the doorway. The alien machine was constantly hammered by alloy rounds. A rocket surged past Merlin as Orgun let fly. The sectopod was consumed by the explosion, and a new wave of thunder rolled over the battlefield.

Plasma flew past Merlin as she slid down the bluff. She took aim and squeezed the trigger. The first round punched through the elite's shoulder. The second one whiffed past it. The third struck the alloy plate it was hiding behind. The fourth one pierced through the cover and found its mark. The enemy howled in anger and slumped down, seeking better cover.

Merlin switched targets. The battle rifle cracked sharply in quick succession, still drowned out by Iku's deafening long rifle. A plasma shot connected with her shoulder. Merlin winced. From the corner of her eye, she saw the dust settle over the sectopod. Brightly glowing energy concentrated inside its cannon as the robot prepared to fire.

The cannon shot rocked the hillside. A massive torrent of rocks and earth surged towards the sky behind Merlin. Another geyser of dirt and debris exploded before her. Merlin flexed her legs and leapt. She emerged through the explosion, screaming wildly. The suspensions in her legs broke her fall onto level ground.

The Valkyrie rushed forward. A volley of plasma scorched her midsection. Alarms blared in her head. Merlin responded by shoving her elbow forward. The flamethrower spat napalm spiced with jellied elerium. The wounded muton elite screamed behind its cover as fire crept into every nook and cranny in its armor. Merlin swung the muzzle up and towards her next target. The stream of liquefied fire arced over the battlefield and rained down on two elites in sticky globs. The aliens ran out of cover, howling madly. One went up in a deafening explosion as Renzol rained death on the battlefield. A sharp bang echoed over the firefight and the other's helmet cracked open, brains shooting out the back.

The sectopod had been under constant fire for the entirety of the battle. Its armor finally gave way, and the weapons platform exploded. Fire and debris shot high before clattering onto arid ground.

Merlin fired her battle rifle. She missed her mark, and the muton shot back. Alarms exploded in her head as the energy blast terminated against her shoulder. The Valkyrie shifted her position, shielding her left shoulder. The visual damage indicator showed armor status red.

Van Doorn's machine gun swung on target and the final elite was shredded by a tight burst. Merlin saw movement through the doorway. "Contact!" she screamed, lifting her left arm. The muzzle of the flamethrower pointed well over the doorway. She knew the weapons system inside-out; she could make the shot.

Merlin emptied the napalm tank in one long shot. The fire arced high over the battlefield. Fiery clumps parted from the stream and rained down along the way. The bulk of the napalm connected, streaming straight into the maw of the UFO. The inside was lit up by red-hot fire. Six muton elites were forced out into the open, roaring in pain as they burned.

XCOM opened fire from top of the ridge. The enemy was cut down in a crossfire. Alloy rounds snapped and pinged off debris and kicked up dust. Burning aliens tossed themselves to the ground, rolling furiously in a desperate attempt to put the fire out. High-caliber slugs punched through their armor as Iku and Renzol fired their penetrating weapons. The air was filled with yellow mist as automatic weapons tore through the enemy's armor. Merlin's battle rifle banged relentlessly, putting down the stragglers.

Silence settled over the battlefield. The stench of burning meat wafted from charred corpses. Van Doorn keyed his mic. Iku reunited with the rest of the squad and Strike-1 descended the slope, joining Merlin at the UFO.

The entrance into the Overseer still burned quietly. Patches of napalm stuck to the walls and floor. The fires cast dancing shadows on the walls, sending acrid black smoke into the invading force's nostrils. Merlin took point. She activated her headlights, and the interior of the UFO was bathed in bright light. The Valkyrie inhaled sharply. She brought her battle rifle on target and almost squeezed the trigger.

A ghastly figure faced the squad from across the room. Its four bony arms ended in hands with long fingers. Its body was withered and its head curved back into an elongated cranium. The lifeless icon was trapped behind a glass cover and embedded into the wall, soft purple glow illuminating its shape from behind. Its hands were pressed against the glass. A shiver ran down Merlin's spine as she stepped deeper into the UFO. She wondered if the creature had once been alive, or if it was a shrine dedicated to some alien god.

"I do not like this. Something is wrong." Hunterhr stopped, eyes glued on the mysterious figure. A dark sense of premonition had settled over him. The psi operative turned his attention inwards. His universe was still with him, the stars glowing in various hues of purple. But he could feel it; something dark and sinister lurking on the edges of his consciousness. It reminded Hunterhr of the time he had passed out in his rack, when the darkness had consumed every last one of those precious stars.

"What is it?" Van Doorn halted the squad, and operatives took up firing positions to watch the entrances.

"We should turn back. We should leave." Hunterhr's voice was filled with urgency, his eyes wild with budding panic.

"Hey, _hey!_" Van Doorn grabbed Hunterhr by the shoulder and forced the medic to meet his eyes. "Look at me. Get a hold of yourself, Hunterhr. You're the senior psionic operative on this mission."

Hunterhr stared at Van Doorn with wide eyes. The rising panic subsided slowly. The feelings of dread and premonition of an inevitable end receded. Hunterhr closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. His squad needed him. Earth needed him. He let out the air and met Van Doorn's eyes.

"Yes, sir," Hunterhr said in a stable voice. He was in control of himself again.

"Good. Explain yourself."

Hunterhr looked around the squad. Kilroy had glanced at him with a doubtful expression, but turned to watch her line of fire. Hunterhr gathered his thoughts and explained, "It is like you said, sir. There is something big in here. A powerful psionic presence. We should tread carefully."

Van Doorn nodded. "We're counting on you, Hunterhr." The Colonel gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before letting go. "You all heard him. Use extreme caution. Move it up."

The squad breached the corridor on the left. The empty hallway was illuminated by Merlin's powerful lights. A door on the left led into the engine room. The power source standing on its pedestal was dark. Strike-1 continued onwards. The UFO was eerily quiet; the only sounds were the hissing and clanging of the MEC suits and the stomping of combat boots on alien alloy. The corridor turned.

A doorway lay on either side. A forcefield covered the entrance into the middle of the Overseer. Kilroy swung out, alloy cannon raised. The open door led into the cockpit of the UFO. Two dark flight computers stood in the middle of the room; two more alien shrines decorated the walls. Van Doorn gave orders in gestures. The squad continued down the corridor and cleared the other side. Another engine room. This one's power source had experienced a meltdown: the floor was covered in stinking black residue and the terminals along the walls were destroyed. Several small corpses could be picked out of the ruins.

Only one room remained. The squad set up at the forcefield leading into the center of the downed craft. Iku, Volatile and Orgun took position inside the cockpit where they had a firing line through the doorways. Van Doorn and Hunterhr took the main entrance. Kilroy and the MEC troopers stood in the hallway; they would rush in as soon as the breach was underway. The corridor was narrow, making the breach much more claustrophobic than Van Doorn would have liked.

Hunterhr looked inwards. He gazed upon the shining stars of pure energy within. He emptied his mind of all things. The premonition was back, stronger than before. Hunterhr held his focus. He reached out and sought the presence of his squad. He felt them, seven stars pulsing within his mind: Van Doorn, grizzled and dedicated. Merlin, burning hot with temper. Orgun, twinkling with mischief. Renzol, cold as steel. Hunterhr connected to all of them and prepared himself. He would protect them, no matter what. Van Doorn met his eyes. Hunterhr nodded, and the Colonel raised his hand. He swiped the controls and the forcefield retracted.

"_Finally. You have come."_

The psionic message was carried on waves of pure energy. They washed over Strike-1, and Hunterhr's eyes widened. He was spread thin, and his tenuous grasp on his squad wavered. Kilroy grunted and fell to her knees. Van Doorn slumped against the wall, the muzzle of his gauss machine gun drooping. Hunterhr felt the darkness begin to spread out over his consciousness.

It all happened in an instant. Hunterhr focused on a scorching-hot star. He tempered his will and shielded the mind from the enemy. Merlin burst into the room. She was oblivious to the rest of Strike-1 seizing up behind her. The Valkyrie gained eyes on the enemy.

The Ethereal's back was turned. The alien was tall and thin, its fragile body covered by a red ceremonial garb. Its large gray headdress bent backwards. Merlin took aim and squeezed the trigger. The alloy round slammed into the wall beyond. Merlin blinked. She saw the enemy in three.

"What the—"

Merlin's eyes rolled back into her head. Her mind went blank as psionic stasis settled over her.

"_How dare she defy us?"_

Hunterhr gasped as he lost hold of Merlin's mind. Her star flickered and died. The dark alien presence turned its mind's eye on Hunterhr. He steeled his will and focused on the endlessly expanding cosmos within, drawing power. But as the presence found him, so did the darkness; the waves washed in from the horizon, drowning out countless stars and planets. Hunterhr bit down as he trembled under the force of the enemy. It sought to break him, but Hunterhr stood steadfast against the tide. He felt a perplexing mixture of emotions from the enemy; curiosity and pride. Pride at him.

"_Are you the New One? Prove yourself to us."_

The psionic pressure lifted off Hunterhr. He had no time to relax as he felt the Ethereal's focus turn on Renzol. _"No!" _Hunterhr screamed within his mind. He shot out his will and spread himself over Renzol's presence. A relentless psionic storm roared over Hunterhr. It tore at his mind, at his very being. With every passing moment, more stars were consumed by the raging darkness. But he held himself firm against the storm. He wouldn't let the Ethereal harm Renzol; he wouldn't let it harm anyone. But in doing so, he left himself open.

Hunterhr's eyes bulged as the enemy slipped inside him. His inner world went dark; only one star remained, blinking ponderously in the void. The purple glow was consumed by the abyss. Hunterhr was drained. He had lost.

"_Weakness. So disappointing."_ The voice inside Hunterhr's head was regretful. _"Kill them."_

Hunterhr pulled his sidearm. Renzol stood next to him, visor retracted. Her eyes were closed. She looked peaceful in her slumber. Hunterhr began to raise his arm.

_No, no, no, what am I doing? Stop! I have to stop. Don't do this Hunterhr._ His thoughts chased themselves in panicked circles. But his arm raised nonetheless. He aimed the handgun between Renzol's eyes.

"_Fire."_

The command exploded inside Hunterhr's head like a supernova. The darkness was overcome by blinding white. Hunterhr screamed in one last act of defiance. He squeezed the trigger.

The gunshot snapped Merlin out of her trance. Her head was muddy and her eyes were dry.

_What happened? _The thought flashed in her mind. She saw the tall enemy and it all rushed back to her.

The Ethereal was doubled over. Two pairs of withered arms clutched at its head. An aura of disbelief and rage radiated from it. Merlin sighted and fired. The slug barreled through the Ethereal's chest, and its body crumbled. A psionic wave shot through Merlin, forcing her back a staggering step. Her head spun with vertigo.

The sounds of violent retching filled the UFO. Merlin turned around. Kilroy threw up. Vomit splattered across the corridor.

"No! No fucking way!" Kilroy vomited again. "This isn't happening. No — No fucking way…"

Hunterhr lay collapsed on the floor. He still clutched the pistol in his hand. The side of his head had been blasted open. His blood and brains decorated the wall.

Van Doorn fell to his knees. He stared at Hunterhr, disbelief and shock worn on his face. The Colonel buried his face in his hands.

"Oi, the fuck's going on?" Orgun stepped out of the cockpit. He looked from Van Doorn to Kilroy to Hunterhr. The words caught in his throat.

Renzol stood beside Hunterhr. Clumps of dark hair and bone shards stuck to the gaping wound in his head. Renzol looked at the rest of the squad: Van Doorn down on his knees in sorrow, Kilroy denying it all, Merlin staring their way in total shock. Renzol turned back to Hunterhr. His once calm and collected features were tortured. He would never read a book with that soothing voice again. He would never save another life. He was dead.

Renzol turned her attention inwards. She looked for a reaction – any shred of emotion – something to match the people around her.

Renzol didn't feel anything. She was empty.


	80. Chapter 80: Earth's Finest

Chapter 80: Earth's Finest

11th of February, 2016

XCOM Asia HQ, Gollop Chamber

Field Commander Awo stared pensively through the wide window. A long walkway led through the austere Gollop Chamber. The Ethereal Device recovered from the Overseer UFO stood atop its alloy pedestal at the far end of the reinforced room. The purple orb radiated immense psionic power, seemingly bending the Field Commander's attention to it and pushing into his thoughts no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.

Van Doorn stepped beside the Field Commander. The Colonel cleared his throat and spoke in a low voice, as if to keep from disturbing the church-like reverence. "Sir? The third MEC suit is online. Master Sergeant Renzol is putting it through its paces."

"Good," Awo answered curtly. His mind was drawn towards the Ethereal device, making it difficult to focus on anything else. The device brought back thoughts of the imposing alien mother ship that had appeared over the Atlantic four days ago. It reminded Awo of their limited ability to assure the future of mankind. They were approaching some kind of flashpoint. He could feel it building like a thunderhead with enormous pressure. Minor logistics seemed too insignificant to capture his attention.

Van Doorn turned to face the window. Doctor Vahlen, Chief-Engineer Shen, and Central Officer Bradford completed the audience. They were waiting for the arrival of the Volunteer.

Hypergeek was clad in a new breed of armor. The Vortex armor had been created from a titan suit under construction and heavily modified using theoretical psionic principles pioneered by Dr. Vahlen. The infrastructure of the sectoid commander's brain had been used to reinforce the suit with implants that augmented the wearer's psionic powers. The dark violet protection clung tight to Hypergeek's body. Along the spine, psionic conductors pulsed with soft purple.

Hypergeek was clean shaven and neatly groomed, his face set with tempered resolve and steeled determination. Two base security guards followed respectfully behind him. They were dabbling in the mystical, tempting unknown alien forces. Awo had ordered all precautions be taken, including the security of their Volunteer. But Hypergeek knew the truth: the security was to protect the base from _him._

_Like that would be enough to stop me,_ he thought.

The doors into the Gollop Chamber groaned and parted. Hypergeek inhaled deeply and cracked his neck. He drew his back arrow straight and cocked up his chin. This was it: his purpose. Without knowing it, he had prepared for this moment his entire life. Ever since he was a kid, he'd always had an ambition for greatness. He had poured that ambition into everything he had done. His studies, his career with GIGN, and now XCOM. He had sacrificed much to excel; a marriage, friendships of colleagues, any semblance of a peaceful life. He took a second to relish where his path had taken him: He was the culmination of his species. The most powerful psionic agent mankind had ever seen; no, the most powerful _human being_ mankind had ever seen. It rested upon his shoulders to save them all.

The Ethereal Device had been nibbling away at Hypergeek's consciousness ever since it arrived at the base. The Volunteer stepped over the threshold and into the chamber, laying eyes on the alien device. The orb welled with unknown depths of psionic energy. Hypergeek finally let his guard down, allowing the seeking psionic tendrils into his mind.

The Ethereal Device's presence guided Hypergeek as he traversed the chamber. With each passing step, he could feel his destiny draw closer. He felt eyes on his back; not only of those watching, but of those who had passed. His comrades: Frag, Foogleman, Cell, Hunterhr, and the Commander. Great leaders and figures of history were gathered alongside them, ready to witness the fate of mankind.

Hypergeek stepped up to the Ethereal Device. He reached out, hovering his hands atop the glowing orb. Hypergeek focused on his self. He stripped out all unnecessary thought, until only the very center of his being remained. Psionic power filled him. He channeled the power into his fingertips and exerted his will, attempting to harness the infinite energy before him. The Ethereal Device shifted. Shards of pure force shot out of the orb and pricked his fingers.

"_At long last, you have succeeded where we have failed."_

Hypergeek's eyes rolled into his head as the visions overtook him. Abductees struggling under bright lights as the aliens experimented on them. Floaters howling in agony, invasive machinery shaping their flesh anew. Vast halls where the Ethereal Ones slumbered in stasis, awaiting rebirth. Battlefields filled with the corpses of human soldiers and sectoids alike. The Alien Temple Ship traversing the endless canvas of the universe on its search for Earth.

A towering figure wearing an ornate headdress floated through the fog of his mind. It was the face of a god in every meaning of the word; a shaper of worlds and uplifter of species. _"Come, New One. Come and fulfill your destiny."_

The visions faded away. In their stead, new strength and knowledge flooded Hypergeek's mind. The door would be open for them. But only if they passed the trials.

* * *

Daishi hurried through the corridors. Wolfer's words still rang in her mind:

_Don't do it. She doesn't want to hear it._

Daishi pushed the words away angrily. She rounded the corner and sped forwards. Renzol would be returning from training.

_I shouldn't have told you,_ Wolfer's sullen voice echoed in her mind.

"Renzol!"

Renzol turned at the call. She surveyed Daishi's approach with mild curiosity.

"You weren't at Hunterhr's funeral," Daishi said bluntly. It wasn't a question; it was an accusation.

"No."

"Why!?" Daishi cried out, desperately begging for an answer. Her face was twisted in sorrow and frustration.

"I was training."

Renzol's curt answer left Daishi feeling helpless, but her desperate heart couldn't let it go. "What happened to you?" she asked.

Renzol refused to answer her pleading eyes.

"Don't they mean anything to you? Cell and Hunterhr… did their deaths mean nothing?"

"I don't have time for this," Renzol replied. She turned her back on Daishi and continued on her way.

Daishi's metal feet clashed loudly on the floor. She sprang past Renzol and blocked her path. "Answer me! Did their deaths mean nothing to you?"

Renzol looked past Daishi. Her eyes were distant and contemplative, almost as if she was searching for something. Daishi set her jaw defiantly. She would have her answer.

"I'm not moving until you answer — Look at me. _Look at me!_"

Renzol's eyes regained focus and shifted to meet Daishi's gaze. The Pathfinder immediately regretted her demands; those light blue eyes were hard as steel, sending shivers down her spine.

"No." Renzol stepped closer, and her forehead almost touched Daishi's. Her voice was slow and deliberate and cold as ice. "They don't mean anything to me. They died fighting. That's how it's supposed to be."

A sardonic smile tugged at Renzol's lips. "Look at you? Look at yourself, Daishi." She grabbed Daishi's metal arm and pulled it up. "We're machines. Weapons. Our purpose is to kill. So wake up from whatever kindergarten dream you're having. This is war. People die. I'm not shedding any tears over it." Renzol shoved Daishi out of her way.

Daishi slumped against the wall. The clanging of Renzol's boots grew quieter as she drew farther and farther away. Tears welled behind Daishi's closed eyes. She hugged herself clumsily, her metal arms cold in her synthetic hands.

_What happened to you, Renzol?_

* * *

The first of the base defense casualties had been cleared for discharge. The medbay was still full, but finally manageable. Kilroy stood in the doorway, hands stuffed in her pockets. She appeared uncharacteristically timid, and the internal struggle was clearly written over her face. _Just do it,_ Kilroy shook her head and straightened her back. The meeting was long overdue.

Kilroy crossed the long hall. With more space available, screens had been set up to provide some privacy for the patients. Kilroy stopped short of her destination. She wasn't worried about protocol; that just wasn't her. But she couldn't shake off the feelings of doubt. _If this doesn't work out, our friendship is over._ Kilroy would hate to go to that place again. One time had been more than enough.

_Besides, a guy like him? It's impossible. He's impossible. Totally fucking impossible._

_And I could be dead tomorrow._

The final thought burned in Kilroy's mind like a beacon. The emotions it brought were strong and urgent and very human. They made her doubts seem trivial and childish. She stepped forward.

Scuba's recovery was coming along swiftly. The heart monitor had gone, and the Latino's cot had been raised to a sitting position. He lowered his paperback when Kilroy emerged around the corner.

"_Hola mamacita! _Got lost on the way?" Scuba's grin disappeared when he saw Kilroy's serious expression. The assault ignored him and sat down by the wall, arms wrapped around her knees. Scuba stared at her curiously for a second before laying down his paperback and leaning back. His usual mischievous grin had been replaced by a gentle smile.

"Sorry for not visiting sooner," Kilroy finally said.

"Don't worry about it. You've had a lot on your mind."

Kilroy tensed. She had expected Scuba to crack a joke like he always did. The response she got gave her hope.

"The squad is announced soon?" Scuba asked.

Kilroy nodded. "Yeah. In like an hour."

"You on?"

"No idea." Kilroy stood up. She met Scuba's eyes, and the rest of her doubts scattered into the four winds. She seated herself on the edge of his bed and took his hand in hers. "Whatever happens — I just want you to know something." Kilroy drew a deep breath. Scuba's eyes were brilliant and deep, and Kilroy felt like she could lose herself in them. Now that the time had come, the words came easily. "I love you."

Scuba smiled. There was a sparkle of his usual mischief and charm in his eye. "I already said it, Kilroy. My heart is yours."

Kilroy leaned in for a kiss. This time, they were alone and with all the time in the world. The kiss was long, and grew deeper and more passionate with every passing moment. Kilroy had finally let go of her doubts, and a single thought echoed throughout her mind: _Whatever happens, happens._

Kilroy stayed by Scuba's side until the squad was announced over the PA system.

* * *

The commander's office was dark but for the warm light of the desk lamp. Awo leaned against the desk, still feeling like a visitor in his own office.

The Field Commander was thinking of their last strategy meeting. Hypergeek had told them what he had seen inside the Ethereal Device. XCOM's final mission approached; it was bound to be their tallest challenge yet. Awo had to believe in victory, but they needed a backup plan should he fail.

Awo had gone over the details with Van Doorn. Should XCOM fail in their assault of the Temple Ship, the outfit would go underground. They had divided XCOM into four cells: Scubaman would take residence in South America. Volatile was to take a group of soldiers into the US while Soylent would be in charge of Asia. Van Doorn would lead the resistance from the Balkans where he had made a lot of connections during the Kosovo War. He would find shelter for XCOM's scientists and engineers in an attempt to preserve the knowledge of alien technology they had gathered during the war. All cells were to remain inactive until the dust of the invasion settled. Awo had made the call with a heavy heart and Van Doorn had accepted the decision without hesitation. Yielding Earth to the aliens was a bitter pill to swallow, but they both knew it was the right decision strategically. They could do much more as a resistance force instead of throwing what little resources they had left at the enemy.

_It won't come down to that. It's not over yet. _The thought brought Awo back to the matter at hand. He could only distract himself from the decision so long. The Field Commander sighed and turned his attention back to the cork board on the wall. Seven photographs were pinned to it.

First picture was Awo's. He wouldn't have it any other way. His leg had fully healed following the MELD treatment, and he was left feeling stronger than ever.

The second photograph was Hypergeek's. Awo would be commanding the operation but in many ways, the highest authority rested on the Volunteer's shoulders. Awo examined the Belgian's service picture thoughtfully. Chances were he was the most powerful human to ever have walked the Earth. Awo knew of the friction between Hypergeek and some of the other operatives. The engineer was prideful and self-assured, sometimes to the point of arrogance and egoism. But he was one hell of a soldier: capable, reliable, and by-the-book. As far as Awo was concerned, Hypergeek had every right to take pride in himself.

Next in line was DSM. Awo frowned. He had never been able to pin down exactly what kind of a person DSM was. She was quiet and moody, almost brooding at times. She seemed to be alone even in social gatherings, and only when she got a decent amount of alcohol inside of her did she open up a little. But DSM was their second most experienced psi operative following Hunterhr's death, making her a must-have on the squad. Besides, it wasn't like Awo doubted her capabilities as a soldier: they had survived the horrors of Johannesburg's train station together. DSM had served through countless terror attacks and contributed to both the defense of the headquarters at Delta Section and to the assault on the alien base. Her experience and scouting expertise were invaluable tools to have.

The third picture was Medve. The Captain was the rock of the outfit. Quiet, unwavering, steadfast. Awo had nothing but good things to say of the Dutchman. Frag's death had left a permanent mark on Medve; Awo had seen it in the way the man had shouldered his officer's duties. Medve seemed to believe it should've been Frag who came back alive from that alien ship and taken the mantle of leadership. Awo smiled. He thought the Captain shared more qualities with Frag than Medve himself knew.

Next were the squad's MEC troopers. Renzol had been Awo's first choice. The Archer had continued where she had left off before her augmentation. She had quite possibly been their best soldier before, and she was their strongest MEC trooper now. Awo wouldn't have believed it had he not witnessed her transformation himself. The girl who had come back devastated from Frag's final operation had turned herself into a living weapon. Awo was grateful he had Renzol to take along with him.

Daishi's smiling face was pinned next to Renzol's. What the Pathfinder had done in defense of the headquarters was nothing short of heroic. Without her, they could have very well lost everything. Melancholy settled over Awo as he thought of what Daishi had suffered through. The mind control incident had almost destroyed her. Driven by guilt, she had given her body to the cause in search of salvation. Just thinking about it broke Awo's heart. Daishi was too good of a person to belong in the military, let alone condemned to a life of an amputee, no matter how advanced their augments were. She deserved so much more.

_Merlin's going to kill me for this one._ The thought made Awo chuckle. Wolfer stared back at him from the notice board. Everything about the Marauder's face screamed aggression, from his rugged chin to his intense eyes. That aggression was why Awo had chosen him. They were assaulting a fortified enemy position; he needed someone who wouldn't hesitate when the call came to charge forward. No, that wasn't it. Awo didn't doubt anyone in XCOM would hesitate when the moment came. It was the fact that Wolfer simply didn't know what the word meant; the man was incapable of standing down from a challenge.

Seven photographs pinned to the wall; seven soldiers out of eight to assault the alien mother ship. That brought Awo back to his agonizing choice. He couldn't delay any longer; the choice had to be made. The Field Commander weighed two pictures in his hands. He would have picked both if he could, but there was only so much room in the Skyranger. Awo gritted his teeth in frustration. It was too close to call. He wanted to call up the Commander and let him decide. But the Commander was dead, and it was his choice to make.

"You'll never forgive me if she dies," Awo said to the photo in his hand. "But that's okay. It's my burden to carry." Awo pinned Drake's picture to the wall. He tossed the other one aside, and Kilroy's photograph landed on the desk.

The shotgun sisters had been there since the beginning. Both had taken numerous hits for XCOM as befit the finest assaults Earth had ever seen. They had brought down EXALT together. They had killed so many aliens everyone had lost count, including Kilroy herself. They were inseparable. But now, one had to go and the other had to stay. Awo didn't really know what he had based the decision off of other than his intuition. But a decision had finally been made.

Awo stared at the faces pinned to the notice board. These were his people, his squad. Earth's finest. The Field Commander opened a drawer and produced a pack of cigarettes. He jammed one between his lips and lit up. Acrid smoke filled his lungs, burning with delicious self-destruction. Awo's eyes closed in bliss as the weight was finally lifted off his shoulders. The puff brought him back to the last time he had smoked. It had been his first field operation in March, injured and sitting behind the wheel of a police car. Frag had still been alive, making the act of dropping alien drones look easy. Foogleman had still been alive, drilling protocol into her squad of rookies. Merlin had been roasting him already back then. Ballystix had served with him on their first operation, only to die a month later in the hell that had been Johannesburg.

Awo dwelled in nostalgia. The cigarette smoked in the corner of his mouth. Soon it would burn out and he would make the announcement. XCOM would spring into action, and nothing would ever be the same again. Awo opened his eyes. He inhaled deep and blew the smoke out through his nose. Earth's finest gazed back at him from the board. The feeling of nostalgia receded, and a heavy weight settled on Awo's chest. He knew it. In the deepest depths of his heart, he knew the truth:

Not everyone would make it home alive.


	81. Chapter 81: Our Finest Hour

Chapter 81: Our Finest Hour

11th of February, 2016

XCOM Asia HQ, Skyranger hangar bay

Alien Temple Ship Assault, Operation Avenger

Strike-1 assaulting

Commanding: Field Commander Awo

CAPT Medve, MSGT Hypergeek, MSGT DSM, MSGT Renzol, MSGT Daishi, MSGT Drake, GSGT Wolfer

The hangar bay was packed. Operatives and base personnel stood on the catwalk surrounding the landing pad. Doors hissed and parted slowly.

"Commander on deck!" Colonel Van Doorn shouted. The formations snapped to attention and saluted.

Strike-1 marched into the hangar bay, led by Field Commander Awo. His face was set with unwavering determination. He gave Van Doorn a solemn nod on his way past. The look they shared was worth a million words of farewell.

Hypergeek and DSM marched side-by-side behind Awo. The psi operatives maintained their focus. They both knew what had to be done, and the time of goodbyes had passed. Medve and Drake followed after. The Captain surveyed the faces of his fellow operatives thoughtfully. He was born to serve, and he was embarking on just another operation against impossible odds. He took in the sight of everyone as if it was the last time he would see them. He had learned to do that after Frag's death.

Drake's long hair was tied in a tight bun. She held the helmet of her titan armor under her arm. She found her sister in the silent crowd; Kilroy was standing next to Scuba and Orgun. Drake raised her hand and returned the salute. The emotions were painted clearly over both their faces.

_I'll come back. I promise._

_You better. I'll never forgive you if you don't._

Drake knew the feeling all too well. So many times it had been her sister who had disappeared into the Skyranger, leaving her wondering if she would ever return.

Three massive metal suits completed the squad. Renzol's visor was down. She was nothing more than a deadly weapon on its way to strike down the enemy. Wolfer's posture was stiff behind her. The Marauder was psyching himself up for what lay ahead, taking great lungfuls of air. Daishi held the rear. She smiled like she always did; a small, wistful curve on her lips as she bid farewell to her friends with tiny nods.

Strike-1 disappeared inside the Skyranger, and the ramp closed with resounding finality. Thrusters flared and thunderous rumbling filled the hangar bay.

"Strike-1 departing!" Van Doorn announced with a booming shout.

All eyes followed the rising aircraft. The hangar bay launch doors screamed, grinding open to reveal a darkening afternoon sky. Four Ravens and the Firestorm passed by overhead, establishing air superiority for the transport. The Skyranger cleared the lip of the cavernous hangar. With a deafening roar of its jets, the transport shot out of view and joined the formation on its final journey.

Van Doorn held his gaze into the skies. "Godspeed, XCOM," he whispered.

* * *

"ETA 10 mikes, sir."

The ATO's call made Bradford shake his head in irritation. "Where the hell is Red Squadron? Get me an open radio channel!"

"I'm working on it, sir. It seems like the alien ship is jamming our communications," an ATO answered.

"I don't need you to work on it, I need you to _do_ it! I want all of our fighters on this one!" Bradford was fuming with frustration. The North American Yellow Squadron was in position over the Atlantic and ready to support the Blue Squadron arriving from Asia, but they had lost contact with XCOM's South American air forces half an hour ago. The operation hinged on a smooth insertion; should Big Sky be shot down, all hope would be lost.

Van Doorn was deep in thought. He stared pensively at the hologlobe. The great blue hologram showed the combat zone over the Atlantic. Ruckus from the antechamber pierced through his veil of thoughts.

"I'm sorry sir, but I can't let you in."

"The hell you mean _you can't_? He's your superior fucking officer! Step aside, soldier."

"I have my orders, sir. No one is to enter Mission Control."

"Tethalaki, I swear to God. I should've let the mutons get you."

Van Doorn looked over. A blueshirt was blocking Kilroy's and Scuba's passage into Mission Control. Kilroy was positively fuming, her face red with anger as she shouted and screamed at the guard. Scuba looked uncomfortable behind her. He was still injured; standing up seemed to cause him distress.

Van Doorn raised his voice, "Let them in, Corporal."

Tethalaki looked back at the Colonel. "Yes, sir," he said and stepped aside.

Kilroy leaned in close as she passed the blueshirt. "That's the last time you're fucking with me, cunt." Tethalaki struggled to keep a straight face at Kilroy's over-the-top act.

"Ai yai yai! This woman is crazy! What did you get yourself into, _El Zorro?_" Scubaman announced. Kilroy's eyes narrowed. She was about to stick an elbow in his side but thought better of it; he was still injured after all.

"Captain. Master Sergeant." Van Doorn nodded respectfully.

"Doornmeister," Scuba said and touched two fingers to his temple. The Colonel grinned. Even at a time like this, Scuba was unwilling to let the act go. Maybe it had never been an act in the first place.

"You kids take a backseat. No distractions, understood?"

"Yessir," Kilroy conceded. She guided Scubaman up the steps and onto the benches on the back wall. It wasn't long before the main comms buzzed to life:

"_Central, this is Casper. I have eyes on the Temple Ship. Requesting weapons clearance, over."_

Bradford keyed his mic, "Casper, Central. You are cleared hot. Red Squadron is not in position. Carry on with mission objective. I say again, deliver the Package. Out."

The hologlobe wavered and a plethora of signals appeared on screen. Two fleets approached the Temple Ship; one from the east, the other one from the northwest. A swarm of red signals emerged from the alien mother ship.

Bradford drew breath and shouted, "Showtime! Everyone stay sharp and we'll pull through this one! Time to give our boys a clean entry."

* * *

Colonel Fallis flicked the switches up top and the Firestorm moved from long distance flight to combat mode. A swarm of UFOs circled the massive Temple Ship at dawn's first light. The sun was at XCOM's back, painting the gleaming alloy hull of the alien mother ship in blazing hues of red and yellow. The gods of war smiled upon them: the pilots couldn't have asked for a better angle.

"_Casper to all Bluebirds. Weapons free. Spitfire, Cager: run escort on the Package. Timezone, Shotgun: keep it tight and blow them a hole to that ship. The remainder of Blue Squadron, engage the enemy and clear a path. How copy?"_

Casper listened to the acknowledgments over his comms. The Council's air forces that had joined them from Western Europe were ill-equipped to deal with the UFOs, sporting nothing more than ballistic weapons and chemical rockets, but XCOM needed all the help they could get. Earth's fleet spread into combat formation, their ships dark speckles against the rising sun. The Council's fighters formed the first line, with XCOM's heavy-hitters bringing up the rear. Five contacts left the swarm of UFOs and headed straight for them.

"_Break, break!"_ Colonel Fallis barked.

The Council's fighters split left and right, clearing the line of fire. Four plasma torpedoes shot out from under the Ravens' wings. The UFOs banked steep and moved in erratic angles, executing evasive maneuvers. The missiles followed. The first one connected, and the enemy vessel disappeared in an explosion of green fire. Another UFO took a glancing hit. It smoked heavily but managed to stabilize. A Typhoon fighter jet swooped down from above, its rotary cannon spewing hundreds of rounds per second. Two smoke trails shot out from under its wings. The Stingray missiles connected squarely, sending the alien craft plummeting towards the crashing waves of the Atlantic.

The Firestorm moved lightning fast amidst the battle. Its gatling lasers chewed a hole through a small UFO's armor. The Firestorm dove down, dodging plasma fire from behind. A Raider-class UFO chased a Typhoon below, angrily spraying plasma. Casper brought his bird low and fired the EMP cannon. The Raider's thrusters shut down. With a last ditch effort, the alien craft released a guided plasma missile. The UFO crashed into the dark depths of the ocean with a white plume, and the Typhoon it had chased exploded into shrapnel. Colonel Fallis clenched his jaw and kicked on the pedals. The Firestorm swooped around with great agility, joining the Skyranger.

The battle had reached the proximity of the Temple Ship. Blue Squadron was holding its own with the help of Colonel Fallis and the four Ravens, but on the other side, things were starting to look grim. The Temple Ship's main batteries lit the skies with green fire. F-15's and F-22's alike were taken apart by the endless hail of plasma. A duo of fighter jets tried to round the kill zone by swooping high above. Seeker torpedoes blasted into the skies. They pulsed brilliant green, like great fireworks. The fighters committed to desperate evasive maneuvers, skipping and turning. The seekers exploded. Fallis was blinded by plasma; it was like an alien sun ignited the sky. High energy scorched the two fighters to ash, and no debris fell to the sea. Support from Yellow Squadron was nowhere to be seen.

"_Blue Squadron, Central. Yellow Squadron is taking heavy losses. Watch out for those batteries."_

Colonel Fallis clenched his teeth. He could see the batteries trained on their position, but not a single barrage had been fired at his squadron.

_It's the Skyranger. They won't touch the Skyranger. _Casper wanted to gamble on that crazy thought and order an all-out attack. For every UFO they shot down, at least two fighter jets followed. They would run out of birds far faster than the enemy would. They needed the Ravens and the Firestorm in the fold. Yet his orders were clear: protect the Package at all costs. Who knew what plot the aliens had brewing for them.

Timezone and Shotgun were the next ones to join the battle.

"_Bandit, dead ahead,"_ Timezone announced.

"_This one's mine,"_ Shotgun replied with glee.

The two had been wingmen since the beginning of the war; the comms stayed to a minimum as their fighters moved in a kind of harmony only earned through a hundred dogfights. Shotgun gave chase while Timezone shadowed. A UFO swooped in to intercept. Timezone sent a volley of laser fire across its bow. The enemy executed a steep bank and disengaged. The UFO's plasma cannons tore a Typhoon to pieces, but all Timezone could do was clench his teeth.

"_Tricky son of a bitch! Intercept!"_ Shotgun called.

"_Wilco!"_ Timezone replied without a moment's hesitation. He pushed hard on the flight stick and the Raven swooped in. They pincered the enemy and two hoses of red energy connected. The UFO's power sources took a hit and the enemy craft exploded into shrapnel. The Ravens crossed paths through the explosion.

"_Wooo! Put 'em in the timezone! Bandit down!"_

"_No way, wingman! That sucker's full of buckshot!"_

"_All wings, Central. New radar contact. We have a battleship closing on bearing zero four eight."_

Shotgun looked up. The Battleship's underbelly was set aflame by the morning sun. The ship was absolutely massive, yet still dwarfed in size by the Temple Ship. A swarm of fighter UFOs discharged from their hangar and barreled towards the Ravens.

"_Where the hell did that come from?!"_ Timezone cried.

"_Break, break!"_

Timezone broke off at his wingman's shout. Two bandits gave chase. Shotgun hit the afterburners and his Raven blasted after them. Timezone's bird was in frantic evasive maneuvers, swooping in low and banking hard. Shotgun gained on them steadily. He fired his last plasma torpedo and destroyed his target.

No matter what maneuver he used, Timezone couldn't shake off his tail. He jerked wildly on the flight stick and kicked on the pedals, making the Raven's nose skip and yaw in a desperate plea for escape. Another hose of plasma passed him by. _Come on, Shotgun! _He urged on in his mind, kicking into another short roll.

"_Shotgun! Take—"_

The comms cut off as Timezone's bird exploded into bright flame and black smoke. Wreckage rained into the ocean. Whatever was left of Timezone was swallowed by the Atlantic.

"_No!" _Shotgun yelled. His throat burned and his eyes watered. He yanked hard on the controls and corrected for the rising enemy. The Raven's cannons sprayed laser. The barrage connected squarely and the enemy ship caught fire, following Timezone into the endless depths below.

"_Shotgun, this is Central. Timezone is down. Return to formation. Confirm."_

Shotgun ignored the command. He kicked his bird into a sharp U-turn and barreled towards the enemy. At least a dozen UFOs faced him. G-forces nailed him to his seat, but he jammed his foot down regardless. The Raven spun around, and the green glow of passing plasma illuminated his grimacing face. The laser cannons flared and another UFO exploded. He whipped through the cloud of smoke, emerging on a direct collision course with another bandit. The UFO's cannons spewed plasma, and the Raven's muzzle hosed out red-hot laser. Neither craft was about to break.

The enemy's lines exploded. Several modernized F-5 fighter jets shot through the smoke and debris, spearheaded by three Ravens.

"_All wings, this is Slash! The Cavalry has arrived!"_

The lead bird swooped down and dropped a UFO on Shotgun's tail. Shotgun glanced to his side. XCOM's insignia glimmered golden on the Raven's wing. Slash gave him the thumbs up. Shotgun couldn't help but grin, and he formed up on his fellow pilot's wing.

"_Casper, Central. Deliver the Package!"_

Colonel Fallis didn't need further encouragement. _"Wilco. This is Casper to all Bluebirds! Engage and clear a path."_

The Skyranger had been sticking around the edges of the aerial battle. Afterburners fed fuel to the thrusters and the transport blasted towards the Temple Ship.

With the help of Slash, the fighters of Blue Squadron managed to turn the tide. Cager and Spitfire took the fight aggressively to the enemy, and two bandits disappeared in great explosions. Shotgun flew Slash's wing, and for every Typhoon that fell, two more UFOs followed. Any stragglers that made it through were locked down by Colonel Fallis. Casper flew solo: his Firestorm darted from target to target, decimating UFOs with ease.

The side of the Temple Ship filled their vision now, stretching on in the morning sun. A hangar door in the side of the ship opened, large enough for two airliners to fit wing tip to wing tip. The Skyranger corrected its course. The transport was swallowed by the depths of the alien mother ship.

"_All wings, this is Central. The Package has been delivered. Bug out." _There was a hesitation over the comms before Bradford's voice crackled through again,_ "Well done men. It's out of our hands now. Out."_

Colonel Fallis made another pass to ensure the last of their remaining fighter jets disengaged safely. The sun had fully risen above the horizon now, bathing the sea in its glorious golden rays. Casper looked to his side. The door in the side of the Alien Temple Ship had closed. The Colonel raised his hand in a salute.

"Do us proud, pogos," he whispered before steering off to join the rest of the fleet.

* * *

An otherworldly light illuminated the interior of the Temple Ship with no discernible source; the soft glow seemed to seep in from the surrounding walls themselves. The alloy bulkheads were decorated with ornate carvings, whorls, and glyphs, all intersecting at alien angles. The great arch of the ceiling disappeared into darkness. Dull, distant thumping could still be heard as the aerial battle outside was dying down. The Skyranger's gangplank dropped with a clang, the sound crashing off the smooth walls of the empty hangar. Strike-1 seized control of the area with the efficiency of a routine practiced through an eleven month war.

Hypergeek focused on his self, weapon ready. The enemy's voice whispered clear inside his mind.

"_You hear our voice New One, now listen well… Long have we watched and waited. So many promising subjects, so many failed efforts. And now, after untold trials, the New One emerges to face the rigors of our collective. An enduring physical form, paired with an equally adept mental capacity – the rarest of traits, finally within our grasp."_

"You hear something?" Awo hadn't even so much as glanced at his lead psi operative. The Field Commander was tense, his gauss rifle shouldered, waiting for the ambush he was certain was coming. His eyes darted between the three doorways leading out of the hangar. The squad's MEC troopers moved up, and the hall was filled with hissing hydraulics and crashing footsteps.

"Ravings of a madman," Hypergeek whispered before moving up. The voice was gone, but its presence remained: a dark, oppressive force of nature looming just out of reach of his consciousness. Hypergeek re-focused and guarded his mind.

Awo split the squad into three. Hypergeek and Renzol took the middle doorway. The doors flanking the center were accessed by ramps leading down several feet. Hypergeek relayed DSM's gesture to the far flank: sectoids beyond the breach. The psionic scout's ability to detect the presence of enemies was invaluable. All three forcefields opened simultaneously, and the MEC troopers breached the antechamber in concert.

The center squad emerged onto a platform overlooking the room. Sectoids scampered about down low. Hypergeek gained eyes on the left, then right; a cyberdisc with drone support emerged from the shadows above them on either side.

"Two discs! Eleven and one o'clock high!"

Renzol and Daishi didn't hesitate. The Ordinance Delivery System thumped, and the disc on the left was engulfed by a thunderous explosion that tore the drones apart. The Pathfinder fired her railgun twice in quick succession, pushing the weapon's cooling systems to its limits. The disc crashed down, crushing a hapless sectoid under it.

The remaining disc's cannon rumbled. Molten alloy roared past Wolfer's head. The Marauder took one more leaping stride before crashing his feet down. Plasma scorched his armor, but the energy of the impact was laughable. The sectoids were hunched behind an alloy table. A sadistic smile spread on Wolfer's lips. He thought the command.

The flamethrower spat searing napalm at close range. The sectoids' squeals were consumed by roaring fire. Wolfer's visor bathed in the reflecting glow of the flames.

An alloy slug sank into Wolfer's rear armor, setting alarms off in his head. The Marauder tore his eyes away from the captivating fire. He swung around and fired the MEC battle rifle rapidly. The cyberdisc closed and executed evasive maneuvers. But the constant barrage of autorifle fire combined with the relentless hammering of the battle rifle were too much. The disc plummeted down, its cracked husk leaking sparks and fire.

"_Two subjects, each with a glaring weakness – brought together in the hopes of a symbiotic strength. And yet, this newfound power left them devoid of higher thought –"_

Hypergeek blocked off the whispering voice; he had no interest in the history of the cyberdisc. He kept his mental grasp on the enemy and pointed to the right; a short flight of stairs led down to a doorway. "One more. Behind the stairs," the Volunteer said. Drake started towards the stairs cautiously. "It's safe," Hypergeek added, mildly irritated. Did his squad think his power was a mere parlor trick?

Drake peered off the top of the stairs. The sectoid commander was holed between the wall and the stairs. It glanced over its shoulder before cowering deeper into the corner. Hypergeek's grip on the alien was steel, rendering its cowardly mind incapable of fighting back. Drake lowered her alloy cannon. She was about to say something but thought better of it. The weapon boomed, and the tiny alien's body was splattered all over the floor.

"Ammo-Cas!" Awo shouted as the squad took position in the antechamber. Concise reports filled the air as his squad responded.

"Minor armor damage," Daishi said.

"All good here," Medve concluded.

"We're digging in. Get ready for reinforcements!" Awo ordered.

"We should keep going."

Awo frowned at Hypergeek's remark. "And abandon a superior position? Why?"

Hypergeek's eyes came back into focus. "There won't be any reinforcements. The enemy is waiting for us up ahead."

Awo let his eyes linger on the Volunteer for a moment. There was no hesitation to be found in him. Then again, that was nothing new for Hypergeek. Awo gave the order, and the squad moved out.

Another set of stairs resided in the middle of the room. XCOM climbed them in unison, leaving the burning carcasses behind. The squad advanced cautiously, watching all angles high and low. They passed under an archway and into the next room.

The catwalk split the room in two. Descending platforms on either side leapfrogged down to the bottom. The MEC troopers burst forward to make room on the low railings. A swarm of chryssalids was waiting for them. The bugs scampered up the rising platforms, their claws scraping on sleek metal. Four floaters surged into view.

This was an enemy DSM knew intimately. The music welled inside her, and she released a crashing cacophony upon the enemy. A bloodcurdling howl filled the room. A heavily armored floater let go of its weapon as nightmares of grinding gears and chopping buzzsaws flooded its mind.

Gauss weaponry lit the room up with thunder. Medve, Awo, and Hypergeek engaged the floaters while the MECs and Drake formed a line against the swarm. Plasma surged past them. A blast of high-energy scored Renzol. The ODS on her shoulder thumped in retaliation. The explosion shook the hall, consuming the floaters.

Daishi's flamethrower poured liquid fire over the edge. Three chryssalids were caught in the stream. The MEC battle rifle cracked and Wolfer dropped another one. Three enemies scuttled the last meters and flung themselves over the railing.

Drake fired her alloy cannon. A chryssalid burst open. Claws dripping with acid pierced Wolfer's right arm, and the enemy latched on tight. The Marauder roared in rage and swung his arm with all his might. The chryssalid traced an arc over Wolfer's head before smashing against the floor. The Kinetic Strike Module came down and the alien's carapace cracked, spilling ichor all over the catwalk.

Daishi crashed her boot into the last chryssalid. Its claws left sizzling marks on her shin. The creature landed in a heap before scrambling back up. Daishi fired her railgun. The slug barreled through the chitin and out the other side, bringing the chryssalid's innards with it.

The MEC troopers' exoskeletons groaned as they assumed defensive postures. Infantry dashed into cover behind them, preparing for reinforcements. Everyone except Hypergeek. He stood in the middle of the catwalk, eyes staring off into some far-off distance.

"Let me guess — no reinforcements," Awo remarked dryly.

"_Oui. _These are the trials."

"Should've sent more bugs if you ask me," Awo muttered sarcastically. He fucking _hated_ chryssalids.

Hypergeek's eyes regained their focus. He could feel the oppressive presence stronger now – it weighed down on him, heavier with each step he took. But as he drew closer to that presence, new power welled inside him, new insight flooded his mind. He took another moment to check his defenses: only the image of his self burned bright in his mind, leaving nothing within exposed.

Medve cursed behind Renzol. His left flank was smoldering. There was no medic on the squad, so DSM took up the task of tending to him.

"It's burnt through," the scout remarked. "Does it hurt?"

"Just get it over with," Medve said through grit teeth. He grunted as medical foam flooded the crack in his armor.

A forcefield at the end of the catwalk led into the next room. Drake moved up behind Daishi and Wolfer, and a tingle on her skin confirmed an enemy presence; six contacts in close quarters. DSM focused and with a quick psionic scouting judged them to be thin men. The squad was in position, and Drake touched the control glyph. The glowing field retracted.

The MEC troopers breached the room. Six thin men opened fire from behind terminals. Green fire battered tempered alloy as the wall of metal made it into the room, clearing an angle. Medve followed the MEC troopers tightly, firing on the move. Thunderous cracking destroyed a terminal on the left, but the enemy ducked for cover.

Drake dashed low into the room. A thin man took aim between the MECs and fired. Despite the protective wall of metal suits, the plasma found its way through. The shot connected with Drake's helmet. A muffled grunt left her lips as her legs gave way. She struck the ground.

The MECs fired their weapons in unison. Railgun slugs punched through terminals and two thin men burst open, spraying dark acid on the walls. The battle rifle thumped relentlessly, forcing two aliens to stay down or have their heads ripped off. The gauss autorifle roared a tight burst, and a neatly groomed alien head cracked open.

Awo crashed to his knees next to Drake. The power armor was too heavy to be carried by one man. Hypergeek crouched down on the other side and they grabbed the assault under her arms. Ionized elerium flashed over their heads. Drake's legs ground into the floor as they dragged her away, the screaming of metal drowned out by the incessant firefight.

By the time Drake was in safety, the battle was over. Awo stared at her helmet with rising dread. The front was horribly scorched: splotches of dark green covered the cracked visor. She wasn't moving. Awo reached around and found the lock at the back of her neck. A metallic snap, and the helmet detached from the armored suit.

Blood covered the left side of Drake's face. A shard of titanium glass was lodged in her eye.

"Drake?" Awo whispered. Drake's right eyelid twitched. It cracked open to reveal a hazy brown eye.

"That bad?" she whispered.

Awo swallowed, and a huge weight lifted off his heart. "You'll live. But it's gonna hurt like a motherfucker."

Drake nodded and set her jaw. DSM had opened her medkit, and Awo accepted the forceps. The shard had not only pierced her eye, but the side of the socket too, lodging deep inside bone.

"Hold her," Awo said, "keep her head from moving."

DSM moved behind Drake. Awo took a deep breath. He grabbed the piece and began withdrawing it with care.

Drake screamed. Her heels assaulted the ground, and the sound of metal pounding on metal joined her cries. The shard ground against bone, filling her world with piercing agony. Awo applied more force and gave a solid yank. The glass came free and fresh blood burst from the eye socket. Awo quickly picked up the foam sprayer and plugged the wound. He slapped a bandage over the eye, locking the foam in place.

Hypergeek didn't hear Drake's screams; he had retreated deep inside his mind. The oppressive presence was upon him now, dark and sinister. Every step he took, every room he traversed drew him closer to the source of that whispering voice in his mind. The end was close at hand, one way or the other.

Strike-1 gathered in the devastated control room. Drake was swooning from the combined efforts of morphine and concussion; she would hardly be able to fight.

DSM walked up to Hypergeek. "Do you feel it?" the Volunteer asked, staring past the next forcefield.

"Yes. It's like I'm underwater," DSM said.

Hypergeek nodded. She didn't feel it, not truly. Not like he did; the voice, the mind's eye of a foreign presence following his every step, weighing him down. She merely felt the side-effects; the static in the air and the distant rumble of thunder, miles away from the eye of the storm. The difference in power between them was that of a newborn and an adult.

DSM closed her eyes and focused, but a troubled scowl crept onto her face. She struggled against the psionic fatigue of a long operation, and against the heavy force that dampened her mind.

Her brow relaxed as new music soared inside her. She took a quick tally of the enemy presence in the next room; there was no mistaking the primitive minds brimming with rage. "Mutons. Six. No, eight," the scout reported. Awo nodded, and the MEC troopers took point, ready for yet another breach.

DSM glanced at Hypergeek. She was dumbfounded by the ease at which he had assisted her. His presence had almost gone unnoticed. The Volunteer's expression showed no feelings related to the act; he was calm, collected, and professional.

"Get ready to assist," Hypergeek said.

"Yes," DSM answered without hesitation, her feelings forgotten in the face of their ultimate task. She was feeling too weak to channel, but lending raw energy was always easier. The opera house was open; Hypergeek had clear access to her well of psionic potential, such as it was.

The door opened to an elevated platform. A flight of stairs led down to a wide plateau; sturdy alloy chairs and tables filled the area. Four mutons and two elites faced the doorway; a berserker charged forward from their midst as the forcefield retracted, as if it had been released from some invisible leash.

Renzol fired her ODS the instant the forcefield opened. The mutons scrambled away from the arcing explosive, buying XCOM invaluable time. Wolfer was the first one out the door. He clashed head-on with the berserker. A melee of flesh and metal ensued. Wolfer grappled the red beast, keeping its clawed hands at bay. A muton rose up to fire. The Marauder jerked hard and the berserker stumbled. Plasma connected with its back, and the creature roared in rage.

The alloy charge detonated. A muton was thrown back by the impact, and Awo put a burst into its head. But the rest of the enemy was undeterred. The elites' cannons rumbled with great repeating blasts, and Daishi screamed. The alarms in her head blared frantically. The HUD showed her exoskeleton's status: yellow, with blinking red sectors along her left side and shoulder.

Hypergeek focused on his ego and lashed out with his mind. The music met his consciousness halfway, and he drew deep. DSM's mind wavered, and the Volunteer cut the connection. He was brimming with power.

The world seemed to slow around him. Wolfer's right fist landed on the berserker's face. Renzol slammed her railgun down, providing cover behind her. Across the doorway, Medve clenched his jaw and fired a tight covering burst. Awo dashed low through the doorway, swinging his rifle from side-to-side. The mutons formed a deadly firing squad in their entrenched position. Hypergeek reached out his hand and grasped the fabric of reality. He tore it open.

Torturous howling rose over the firefight. A muton's eyes burst open, ocher blood spewing out of the gaping holes. Another's arm bent backwards before snapping off completely. An elite's grenade exploded, and the alien was consumed by elerium fire. Tables and chairs and mutons twisted and turned under absolute power. Operatives turned their eyes away from the maddening sight; the air itself seemed to be twisting endlessly. It coiled around and around the enemy in a whirlpool that defied the very laws of nature.

Wolfer released a great shout and crashed his Kinetic Strike Module into the berserker. The beast lumbered backwards. It tipped over the stairs and was consumed by the Rift. Its howls ended as the force tore its head off.

Hypergeek collapsed to one knee. Air rasped through his lungs. Sweat speckled his brow. And a voice filled his head: _"It is as we hoped… the New One has surpassed all that have come before. And with such great confidence… so skilled with the Gift."_

"_Shut the fuck up! Out of my head!"_

The voice disappeared, leaving behind a distinct sensation of smug satisfaction and pride. Hypergeek drew a deep breath. He was feeling stronger by the minute; the ports along his spine pulsed as the Vortex armor amplified his psionic energy.

One last muton remained, stumbling about aimlessly and roaring feebly. Only dark holes remained where its eyes had once been. Drake took aim with her one eye and squeezed the trigger, ending the alien's misery.

"Hypergeek, what in the actual fuck was that?" Awo said, turning to his top psi operative.

The plateau dropped down three meters onto a grand hall. Lush carpets filled the floor, and coiled alien decorations hung on the walls. Elevated walkways circled the room, separated from the middle by ornate pillars of some dull material. The long gallery ended in wide, curving steps that led up to the largest forcefield XCOM had yet seen. Two metal doors ground open below the large stairs.

"No time. _Contact!_"

The squad broke into action at Hypergeek's shout. Two sectopods emerged from the doorways. The machines were absolutely massive, at least twice the size of any other sectopods XCOM had encountered. Strke-1 dashed into cover behind the railing surrounding the plateau; the gauss autorifle began its frantic chattering, and Renzol's ODS rained fire support across the hall with constant thumping. Hypergeek pulled an alien grenade from his rigging; he hadn't forgotten his old training. The explosive trailed a great arc all the way across before detonating upon the enemy. Thunderous booming and rapid cracking filled the air.

Daishi and Wolfer rushed forward on either side of the gallery. The sectopods' primary cannons were oriented against XCOM's base of fire. Heavy plasma cannons deployed on top and took aim.

The pillars around Daishi exploded with dust and debris under a storm of green fire. She kept her pace up, unrelenting in her pursuit of the end of the hall. A barrage of elerium connected with her good shoulder, making her stumble. She suppressed the screaming alarms and kept going. She was almost there.

A jet of plasma cut a pillar in two. The construct groaned and began falling into the hall. Daishi stepped out onto the column. She leapt.

Plasma soared past her. The short flight came to an end, and her boots crashed on the enemy. The plasma cannon reoriented. Daishi grabbed the weapon with both hands and strained with all her might. The cannon rumbled in her hands, sending death blasting inches from her face. Her hands glowed red from the scorching barrel but still she wrenched on. Metallic grinding split her ears as the cannon finally tore free. She tossed it aside and jammed her elbow into the hole. Napalm spiced with jellied elerium poured inside the sectopod, melting its interiors with brilliant fire.

Wolfer's KSM hammered the other sectopod. Its armor was bent and broken from XCOM's relentless assault. The front port opened to reveal the main cannon. Orange glow lit up the muzzle and a massive beam of energy blasted forth. Wolfer's right arm was caught in the impact.

The Marauder stumbled back, wheeling away from the cannon fire. He crashed to his knees. The sirens were going wild in his head. The HUD showed MEC armor status black. He couldn't move his arm. And it burned; oh how it burned. Wolfer bit into his tongue and the taste of iron rushed his senses. Tears of pain filled his eyes. His arm was cramping. It was burning and twisting. It was being torn apart and crushed all at once. The phantom pain made Wolfer's eyes bulge. He jumped up and turned to face the enemy.

The cannon was lit up by crimson fire. The sectopod was preparing for another shot. But Wolfer didn't turn away. He rushed straight at the enemy.

"Do it! _Do it!"_

Wolfer's KSM crashed right into the cannon. The muzzle bent under immense kinetic force. The sectopod fired.

The alien machine imploded. Shrapnel and fire shot out of its seams. The explosion consumed Wolfer, knocking him back. The Marauder rolled across the deck before coming to a halt on his back. Smoke rose from his scorched armor.

Daishi kicked off the sectopod. The alien machine behind her moved erratically before tipping over, thick smoke rising from its ports and seams.

"Wolfer!" Daishi crashed down on her knees next to the smoking exoskeleton. The armor was badly damaged; it looked like a nine millimeter round would tear through like paper. "Wolfer!" she shouted again, her voice overtaken by fear.

The scorched visor retracted to reveal Wolfer's grimacing face. His nose was bloodied and his entire face glimmered with sweat, but he was alive. "Fuck!" he coughed, spitting blood. A wide smile spread on Daishi's lips.

"Thank God," she uttered and touched her friend's shoulder. "Are you alright?" she asked.

"Do I fucking look like I'm alright? I'm boiling alive in here!" Wolfer rolled over and struggled to his knees. His crumpled right arm let out a groan of tortured metal before severing completely. It struck the ground with a dull crash. The Marauder cursed.

"That was some kickass work. Still alive in there?" Awo asked from the upper catwalk. He clambered onto the crashed pillar and began making his way down into the hall littered with sectopod debris.

"I've had worse," Wolfer said. He was grasping the port where his right arm used to be. The phantom pain along his arm had subsided, but it still pulsed red-hot within the cybernetic interface. He nodded at Renzol. "Like when she crashed an entire fucking warehouse on me."

Daishi's clear laughter rang through the devastated battlefield. Awo jumped down the last meter and landed gracefully. "Damn, you're busted up. Stick back with Drake for now," he said.

"_No!"_

Awo was taken aback by the fierce denial. His jaw settled in a tight line. Wolfer followed up, "Sir. My armor status is still yellow," he lied. "And I can't use my weapon. Vanguard is the only use for me." He lifted his remaining arm and the turbines of the KSM fanned to the sides briefly.

Awo conceded the point with a nod. "Understood." DSM and Hypergeek made it down the last few meters to the hall, and Awo turned to them. "Tell me what you sense. What's up there?"

DSM shook her head, a deep concern glimmering in her eyes. "I'm not — It's… it's too much."

Hypergeek spared her a short look before turning to Awo. "She's talking of the presence. The enemy… the real enemy is waiting for us up these steps. None of these—" the Volunteer paused for a moment, looking for the words, "—these tools."

"So it'll be another Ethereal? Like in the Overseer?" Awo asked.

Hypergeek merely nodded. He didn't need to tell them this one was vastly more powerful.

Awo placed a hand on the Volunteer's shoulder. "We're counting on you, Whiskey."

Hypergeek met Awo's solemn look. He acknowledged the Field Commander with a nod. The great double doors at the top of the stairs were open, inviting them in. The Volunteer took point and led Earth's finest into the sanctum of the Temple Ship.

They entered what must have been the ship's bridge. The high chamber was reminiscent of an amphitheater: a recess in the middle was surrounded by elevated daises on two sides. Wide windows spanned all bulkheads, granting an unobstructed view of the bright February morning and the great waves of the Atlantic. The ship's controls resided across the room; a purple orb atop an alloy pedestal, just like the one recovered from the Overseer.

A swirling mist of pure energy surrounded the Ethereal Device. The fog glimmered with vivid hues of purple and indigo. The mist began to retract, and Hypergeek finally felt the presence that had been pushing into his consciousness in its entirety. It was the same mind he had met within the Gollop Chamber. A being of enormous psionic strength; otherworldly and all-powerful. The cloud disappeared, and an Ethereal wearing an ornate headdress faced the squad.

XCOM was frozen. Renzol tried to fire her ODS, but pain knifed through her cerebellum where the weapons' controls lay. The Archer crashed to her knees. Medve squeezed the trigger, but invisible arms forced his weapon up and away. The gauss autorifle released a short burst harmlessly into the ceiling. The Captain's eyes turned into his skull as the psionic feedback rendered him unconscious. Bruised and battered, Drake attempted to charge forward, but her knees failed her as the Ethereal's control halted all attempts on its life.

Hypergeek felt the enemy focus more psionic energy than he had known possible; even his experience twisting the fabric of reality was a drop in the yawning void compared to what he now bore witness to. The energy was released. A psionic wave swept over the squad, an invisible shockwave personally tailored for each of their minds. XCOM was thrown to the deck, all vestiges of self-control lost.

In that instant, Hypergeek focused inwards. His ego burned bright in the darkness as the wave washed over him. His knees gave way as his physical form failed, but he kept his focus. The storm looked to break his will and crush his mind, but he stood against it. The raging winds smashed against the floodgates of his mind.

"_You have finally arrived, New One. Now behold the greatest failure of the Ethereal Ones, we who failed to ascend as they thought we would. We who were cast out. We who were doomed to feed on the Gift of lesser beings… as we sought to uplift them… to prepare them… for what lies ahead."_

Knowledge flooded Hypergeek's mind. An ancient species, once strong and powerful in both mind and body, degraded to withered corpses by the ruthless laws of evolution. He saw their endless journey across the universe in search of a new home; the search of a new body fit to house their all-powerful minds. He saw tiny insects scuttle amongst the red rocks of an arid planet. He saw the tribal villages of an aggressive alien species wage war against each other. He saw a race of reptilians swimming in the endless oceans of a faraway planet. And he saw the Ethereal Ones, pillaging across those worlds, taking what they needed; shaping and twisting and turning until the lifeforms fit their needs. But it had resulted in disappointment; a failure every time.

"_And now, New One, our search is at an end. We have found our home. A species strong in both mind and body. It will all begin with you."_

Hypergeek couldn't deny the visions. He saw their end: Renzol and Daishi screamed in terror on the alien's surgery tables, defenseless with their amputated limbs. Drake was embedded in an alien machine, thick tubes exuding from her mouth and nose. Her belly bulged from the breeding experiments. Hypergeek himself and DSM laid paralyzed on operating tables, their heads open and brains exposed as the Ethereal Ones poked and prodded at their inner minds.

He saw the world that awaited beyond: Humanity was broken under a yoke of oppression that left hundreds of millions with nothing. He saw the formation of a New Earth Coalition that bowed their heads to the aliens. He saw the Human Police, raiding homes and tearing children from their mother's breasts. He saw shining white megacities, and the desperate people that flocked to them in hopes of a better life. He saw Van Doorn, old and grizzled, gunned down in his home. He saw a great flying ship with XCOM's insignia go down in flames over the Atlantic.

And lastly, Hypergeek saw the firstborn of a new dawn. The child looked almost human, but its solid black eyes and bulging cranium betrayed the truth. It was genetically superior to man in every way, freed from the shackles of mortality and housing the presence of the Elders. It spread across the planet like a disease. Mankind could not coexist. In two generations, they were reduced to a handful of broken survivors. Hypergeek watched the last living human hide inside an old bomb shelter. He passed away in his sleep from an alien-engineered plague. Mankind was eradicated: their monuments torn down, their legacy wiped off the face of their home planet.

"No!" Hypergeek shouted in defiance. The visions escaped him, and he was left standing alone in the darkness. He looked around frantically; he had to find his squad. He couldn't fight the endless tide of psionic energy alone.

Hypergeek sharpened his will and searched the darkness. He found himself stumbling amidst the toppled stones and tapestries of a ruined opera house. "_DSM!_" he called out. But only the winds of a psionic storm answered him. There was no music to be found here.

Hypergeek carried on in the void. He came up hard against a sealed vault. "Medve! Renzol! Daishi!" he yelled, banging his hands on the cold metal. But the blast door didn't budge. It was seamless; the edges had been welded shut. The vault was forever closed to the outside world.

"Awo! Wolfer! Drake!" Hypergeek's calls echoed over the graveyard. It was XCOM's; the one located deep within their headquarters. An empty podium stood before the graves. The tombstones stretched out endlessly. Cold fear spread in Hypergeek's stomach as he laid eyes upon the front grave. _Here lies Field Commander Awo, he who failed his family and all of mankind._ The vision disappeared, and Hypergeek was left in darkness once again.

He continued on, the darkness around him growing thicker by the moment. He had to struggle for each step, fight for each moment. Should he fail, all would be lost. The presence was there, following his progress through the void. Hypergeek grit his teeth.

_I won't bow to you!_

The presence wavered. It was laughing. The bastard was laughing at him.

A caged flame struggled for release in the darkness. Hypergeek had finally found what he was looking for. He walked up to the fire. It was burning low, but he sensed a presence inside. He steeled his will against the storm and reached a hand into the flame.

Hatred. Anger. Loathing. Helplessness. Fear. Guilt. Self-destruction. Rage. A bonfire of negative emotions scorched Hypergeek. He sharpened his will and established a link with the fire, feeding what psionic energy he had left into the flames. _Do it,_ he whispered the command into the fire. _Release it. Release it all._

The alien ship's bridge rushed back to Hypergeek. Depleted of energy, he was tossed on the floor. A defiant roar of agony rang throughout the room.

Wolfer rose to his feet. His teeth were clenched in rage and pain. The Ethereal's control was an ever tightening thumbscrew on his mind. He took a step forward. The pain was unimaginable. He crashed down on one knee, drenched in sweat.

"_You will not fight. Submit. Submit!"_

The veins in Wolfer's neck bulged. Memories filled his mind: His kicking boots and the helpless man lying on the asphalt, blood pooling under him. Daishi pulling the trigger. His augmentation and the phantom pain; the never ending pain. The fires inside him roared ever higher, finally consuming him.

A rising wail left Wolfer's lips. His mechanized legs sprang him forward. The thumbscrew crushed his mind, but Wolfer no longer cared. He charged forward with abandon, any and all self-preservation scorched to ash by the fire.

"_Fool! You will die!"_

The alien leader's message never reached Wolfer. He launched himself from the top of the stairs. His neurons fried themselves. He landed with a massive crash, never stopping. The vessels in his eyes burst, turning his world red. The cybernetic interface on his right shoulder leaked elerium sparks. He barreled up the stairs to the Ethereal.

"_Stop! I command you!"_

But Wolfer didn't stop. The red fog was on him, and there was no more dousing the flames. Blue fire shot back from the Kinetic Strike Module. Wolfer struck.

A massive gale threw Drake on the floor. She gasped suddenly as the world came back to her. Remaining eye wide, she glanced around. "What happened?" she muttered.

"We did it," Hypergeek gasped. The Volunteer was down on his knees. "It's done."

Drake stared at the engineer with a baffled expression. She couldn't connect the dots.

"Wolfer!" Daishi's joyous shout rang through the bridge. She stood by the stairs, looking across the room. "Wolfer, you did it!"

Wolfer was down on one knee by the main controls. His fist was down, lodged into the metal floor. A red ceremonial garb was trapped under it, fluttering slowly on dying winds of pure energy.

"Wolfer?" Daishi's voice had turned concerned. She took a step down the stairs. "Wolfer, what's wrong? Answer me!" She took off running, rushing to her friend's side. "_Wolfer!"_

Hypergeek stood up, and a vision came to him. The fires of Apocalypse raged in the sky: buildings razed, people pulled from the streets, and a bright flash reduced forests to ash and turned mountains to dust. The ship itself became a black hole, consuming all of mankind and stripping Earth down to its molten core. It was a psionic dead man's switch; mutually assured destruction, the Ethereal's final gift to them.

"Go," Hypergeek said.

Awo looked at him from the floor with confused eyes. "What?" he asked, still reeling from the effects of psionic torsion. The ship rumbled. Deep reverberations ran through its hull, making the large titanium windows clatter. Hypergeek started towards the ship's controls. "What is it, Hypergeek?" Awo shouted after him. His headset buzzed and Awo cursed. Still disorientated, he shouted into the mic, "Central, what the hell is going on?"

Hypergeek crossed the room, his eyes fixed on the glowing Ethereal Device. He climbed the stairs and stopped by Daishi.

The Pathfinder was kneeling next to Wolfer. Her massive metal hands were on her friend's arm and shoulder. "Wolfer, please. Get up. Listen to me. We have to go," she pleaded in a trembling voice.

"He's dead," Hypergeek said.

"_No!_" Daishi's head snapped to Hypergeek. Her visor was retracted, and tears ran down her despair-ridden face.

"You have to go."

"No! We can't leave him. We… we have to carry him! No man left behind!"

"Daishi." The Pathfinder recoiled in shock as Hypergeek exerted his will upon her. It wasn't a command. Yet. "Don't make me force you."

Daishi's eyes narrowed. Hypergeek recognized the look in them. Hatred. He was used to it.

Daishi turned back to Wolfer one last time. The hatred bled right out of her when she laid eyes upon her friend. She had shot him, condemning him to a life of augmentation. Despite all that, he had forgiven her. And they had walked through the valley of the shadow of death together. Daishi caressed the armor gently and laid her helmet against Wolfer's. She closed her eyes, and fresh tears struck paths down her cheeks.

"I'll see you on the other side," she whispered.

Another tremor ran through the ship. Daishi stood up, and the visor closed over her face. Hypergeek left her behind and walked to the alien device. The visions of Apocalypse swept through his mind once again.

"We have to evac!" Awo shouted from the door. "Central's saying this entire ship is going up! Move it, people! _Move!_" Daishi joined the rest of Strike-1. Renzol was carrying DSM over her shoulder; the scout was out cold. The squad poured through the door. Awo and Hypergeek were the last ones inside. "You too, Hypergeek! Fucking _move it!_"

Hypergeek looked back. "_Go!"_

The order was loaded with psionic strength, and Awo stumbled backwards. The Field Commander held his stare and watched Hypergeek disappear as the blast door slammed shut.

The Volunteer turned back to the Ethereal Device. The entire ship was overtaken by violent reverberations. Despite the upheaval, he could feel a psionic network extend forth from the device. He knew what he had to do. He reached out and exerted his will upon the orb. Shards of energy pricked his fingertips.

Hypergeek was one with the ship. Its heart was running wild, spinning in ever accelerating circles. The overclocked main elerium reactor was the source of his vision; it would reach its apex soon, turning into a black hole. Hypergeek couldn't stop it. He turned his attention to the auxiliary generators. They would be easily overloaded.

Hypergeek saw the entirety of the ship. Aliens ran amok as whatever control the Ethereal had exerted over them had disappeared. He saw the cloning vats and the silent chamber where the Ethereal Ones slumbered. A wicked smile spread on his lips. They had messed with the wrong species.

Daishi led the battered soldiers through the corridors, looking for a way back to the Skyranger. Hypergeek reached out his mind and closed the doors around them, cutting off incoming aliens. Daishi ground to a halt as a door slammed shut before her. Hypergeek opened a door to her left. He followed their quick conversation from afar before Awo gestured at the new avenue.

The squad continued under Hypergeek's guidance. They burst through a side door and into the first antechamber. They sprang up the stairs towards the landing zone. The Skyranger was waiting for them, jets hot. Daishi was the last one to board, staying behind to look over her shoulder one last time. The aircraft took off with a blast of its jets and shot out into the brilliant winter morning above the cold crashing waves of the Atlantic.

There was only one thing left to do. Hypergeek would be damned if he let his comrades die from the explosion. He took control of the ship's thrusters and activated them. His stomach lurched under sudden vertigo. The Temple Ship was rising, its acceleration fast and smooth. Hypergeek opened his eyes to see clouds rushing past him, but they quickly disappeared as he entered the clear upper atmosphere. The sky darkened. Stars twinkled up above, calling to him. He could go anywhere in the universe; anywhere he wanted to. If only he had more time.

The ship's main power source was screaming madly now. It was time. Hypergeek closed his eyes, shutting out the wonders of the universe. He seized control of the auxiliary generators. As his final moment approached, a whisper from the past came to him:

"_Sometimes… sometimes I wonder. If it had been me instead of Beaumont. Would everyone in the force have been so sad? Would anyone have missed Hypergeek?" _A melancholic smile spread on his lips. He overloaded the generators. The end was inevitable.

"_Mourn me."_

On a small island off the coast of Japan, Lieutenant Soylent Green nearly fell off her chair inside Mission Control. She glanced around. No one was behind her. But she had heard Hypergeek clear as a day, whispering into her ear.

Mission Control was in chaos. ATOs relayed power and altitude readings from the alien ship in a frenzied cacophony. Van Doorn had a headset around his neck and another pressed against his ear. Awo's strained voice buzzed through:

"_Wolfer's KIA. Hypergeek stayed behind. Wounds on Medve and Drake, DSM's out cold."_

Bradford stared at the hologram. The ATOs' reports only made him grimace; there was nothing more they could do. The red signal rose ever higher into the thermosphere. The indicator blinked twice before disappearing.

Mission Control fell silent as a crypt. Van Doorn and Bradford held their breath. Kilroy grasped Scuba's hand tight.

"Sir, we've lost track of the alien ship," an ATO said.

Central Officer Bradford keyed his mic. "All wings, this is Central. Report in. What happened to the ship? _What happened to the ship?"_

A deep line of tension vibrated through Mission Control. Finally the speakers crackled and Lieutenant Urban's excited voice came through, _"Central, Slash. I have visual confirmation. The alien ship is fire in the sky! We kicked these fuckers right off our planet!"_

Mission Control exploded into deafening cheers. Headsets flew up in the air as ATOs jumped to their feet. Van Doorn grabbed Bradford in a bear hug. The two officers shouted and laughed, the weight of years lifted off their shoulders. Doctor Vahlen exchanged a look of relief with Chief Engineer Shen. The man spread his arms and Vahlen stepped into the embrace with a laugh. Kilroy jumped up and down in excitement. She released another ear splitting scream and leapt at Scuba. The injured Captain caught her, and his shout of pain turned into a wild laugh as the couple spun around.

Bradford removed himself from Van Doorn's grasp. He stepped to the nearest control panel and grabbed a hand-held microphone off its hook. "Do the honors, sir," he said, offering Van Doorn the mic with a grin.

Despite their losses, the Colonel answered the smile. Victory at all costs; Van Doorn was aware of the price of war. Moreover, the men and women of XCOM deserved this moment of triumph. He accepted the mic and took a deep breath. "XCOM!" he addressed the Guardians of Earth in a booming voice, "The alien mothership has been destroyed. _We have won this war!_"

Celebrations erupted throughout the headquarters. Engineers, scientists, cooks, and cleaners hugged their fellow man. They kissed, laughed, cried, and yelled themselves hoarse as the toils of an eleven month war came to a close. The horrors of the alien assault on their home were washed away in an instant.

The operative's mess was in chaos. Wootastic bounced up and down on the bar, screaming incoherently. Kamikaze and Squint were locked in a deep kiss. Kungtotte and Iku slammed each other in the back. Stoli's tank top came off and she spun the garment wildly above her head. Petete collapsed into her chair, wordless. Gamage hugged Pavehawk, and even the stone-faced rocketeer's smile finally reached up to her eyes. Merlin rolled around on the floor, clutching at her stomach with mechanized hands. Her wild cackling laughter showed no signs of stopping.

Orgun was spraying the crowd with cheap beer. Wootastic swooped down and grabbed the bottle, slathering herself with the liquid. Orgun released a booming laugh and doubled over behind the counter. When he rose, he was holding two bottles of cheap bourbon in both hands. A blooming smile decorated his merry face.

"Oi fellas! Time to get feckin plastered!"

The Irishman tossed the bottles over the counter, and operatives scrambled to catch them. Zim caught one, squealing in excitement. Morgan and Vherid caught two more and Instinct dove across the room to save the last one from shattering. Orgun picked another one off the shelf. He unscrewed the cork and dropped it to the ground, a swift stomp reducing the cap unusable.

He raised his bottle and shouted over the ruckus, "And may ye be in Heaven a half hour afore the Devil knows ye're dead!" He turned bottoms up and drained deep. The burn of the sharp liquor was exquisite. It tasted like victory.

XCOM celebrated deep into the night. Toasts were raised to the health of those still standing. They were raised to nations and people worldwide, to cities and home towns. They were raised to families and sweethearts back home. They were raised in memory of Wolfer, Hypergeek, and everyone else who had fallen, and oaths were made to never forget them. But above all, toasts were raised to XCOM.

It was their finest hour.

* * *

Author's note: Stay tuned for Epilogue and a big reveal related to the story.


	82. Epilogue

Epilogue

Ottawa, Canada

11th of November, 2016

Third Quarterly Earth Independence Day

The November air was crisp. Frost had arrived during the night, painting the grass along the sidewalks white. The Southern suburbs were quiet in the morning's first light. The revving of a motorcycle broke the silence and a red sports bike cruised through the empty streets. The driver wore a short black leather jacket while the passenger was clad in a beige parka. The bike passed the red lights at some speed before braking and stopping in front of the cemetery, tailpipe spewing exhaust fumes into the cool air.

The passenger jumped to the sidewalk. The helmet came off to reveal Drake's grimacing face, left eye covered by an eyepatch.

"Holy shit that's cold!" Kilroy shouted over the rumbling of the engine. She hung her helmet on the handle and rubbed her gloved hands together. "Can't believe I used to live up here."

"Tell me about it," Drake agreed, hopping up and down to get the blood flowing again. "What did you say? 'It's never too cold to ride'?"

The engine died and Drake turned to face Kilroy. The brunette dug a pack of cigarettes from her jacket, dismissing Drake with a shrug before sticking a smoke between her lips. Drake wrinkled her nose in disapproval as Kilroy lit up.

"Aah, that gets the blood flowing!" Kilroy said, exhaling a great white cloud.

"More like the exact opposite," Drake remarked dryly.

"Doctor Smartass. Paging Doctor Smartass." Kilroy gave Drake the finger, making her grin. The brunette climbed off the bike and the two started towards the cemetery gates. "Winter is coming," Kilroy said in-between puffs.

Drake rolled her eyes. "If I knew you were gonna be like this, I would've never shown you Game of Thrones." Kilroy laughed, and Drake joined her. The brunette inhaled once more before snuffing the cigarette at the gates.

The cemetery had been built for those fallen in the Great Conflict. Long rows of tombstones honored the memories of Canadian soldiers. It was early morning, but a few candles had already been lit in honor of the Third Quarterly Earth Independence Day. An elderly woman looked up from her grandson's grave. Drake gave her a solemn nod as they passed her by.

Four wide paths met in the middle of the grand cemetery where a tall statue had been erected. As the shotgun sisters drew closer, they could make out more and more of the details. Drake leaned to Kilroy. "What do you think?" she asked.

Kilroy mulled her tongue around. "Hmm, I'll give it an eight. Definitely better than that monstrosity in London, but falls short of Berlin."

Drake sized up the statue. "Sounds about right. Seven and a half."

A fresh copper sculpture depicting a squad of soldiers loomed twenty feet high upon a granite pedestal. At the base, nine operatives were down on their knees; one for each of the corps, and base security to boot. The gauss long rifle, advanced laser rifles, and snub-nosed gauss stutterguns were all expertly sculpted to represent their real-life counterparts. In the center, a MEC trooper in full combat exoskeleton towered above the cemetery. Two more soldiers stood by its side: one dressed in a pilot's G-suit and helmet, and the other carrying the biohazard sign assigned to the genetically modified troops.

One more soldier finished off the memorial. Clad in the distinctive Vortex armor, he rose from the midst of the squad. The legs had been sculpted to form into a swirling mist, giving off the illusion he was carried on the shoulders of them all, rising even higher than the MEC trooper. An outstretched hand held a sphere of polished gold. The brilliant detail stood out of the mundane copper strikingly.

Kilroy whistled approvingly as she drew closer and saw the fine detail. "Damn. Okay, I'll give that a nine. No ten though. They fucked up the face on this one too."

Drake giggled. "That's right. Poor Hypergeek."

The psi operative's face was sculpted with great detail. Neatly combed hair curved back from his brow. The nose, cheeks, eyes, and chin were all Hypergeek with pitch-perfect accuracy. His features were sculpted into a humble look. It was an expression that spoke of deep respect and sacrifice.

"I guess the cocky I-know-I'm-the-best-and-fuck-anyone-for-saying-otherwise look didn't go down too well with the funders," Kilroy said, drawing another laugh out of Drake.

By the statue's foot, a solitary candle honored the memories of the fallen. The sisters' bioelectric skins prickled, confirming the presence of someone else.

"Yo, over here," Kilroy called out. Four familiar figures rounded the base of the sculpture. Awo, Merlin, and Medve were all clad in uniform while Orgun wore blue jeans and a bulging winter coat.

"Damn it's good to see you! Come 'ere!" Merlin exclaimed and spread her arms. Old friends embraced each other, sharing pleasantries.

Kilroy pulled away from Orgun and gave his belly a friendly pat. "Goddamn it Orgun. You fat piece of shit!"

The Irishman smiled sheepishly. "Ya know me. Livin' the life!"

With the greetings exchanged, Kilroy glanced around. Her face betrayed a mixture of anticipation and dread.

Orgun cleared his throat. "Scuba's goin' straight to the venue."

A sigh of relief left Kilroy's lips, and Merlin exchanged a look with Awo. "That bad, huh?" she asked.

Kilroy sighed again. Talking about Scuba was a surefire way to make her mood drop. "Yeah, I've been crashing at Drake's for a month."

"You guys gonna break up?"

Kilroy shook her head. "I really don't know anymore. It's like… I still love him. I just can't fucking live with him, you know? It's fucking Scuba. _El Zorro!_" The last words were full of mockery and spite, making the others chuckle uncomfortably. "Let's not talk about it."

Kilroy turned to Awo. The officer's face was old beyond his late thirties, and a streak of gray ran along his temple. In his right hand he held a mahogany cane, with a handle of solid silver and XCOM's familiar insignia carved onto it. The words _Vigilo Confido_ circled the base. I am watchful. I am relied upon.

"How's the leg, old man?" Kilroy asked. She leaned over and gave his right thigh a knock. Her knuckles struck something hard.

The gangrene had appeared after the war; there had been no other choice but to amputate. Despite the fierce demands of Doctor Vahlen and the medical team, Awo had refused the use of their limited supply of MELD on himself. The prosthetic didn't bend and respond like the cybernetic augments did, but it got him places.

"Never better," Awo said, "But you should really ask Merlin."

"Oh shit, that's right!" Drake exclaimed, "The new augments! Can you show us?"

"Sure," Merlin said. She pulled off her glove and rolled back her sleeve. Kilroy and Drake leaned closer to inspect. The rough metal augments had been replaced by prosthetics that mimicked human appearance and skin color. The hands were especially finely crafted, all the way down to the lines in the palm. Visible seams at the joints still betrayed their artificial nature.

"Damn, that's cool," Kilroy said. Without asking, she slid her hand down the forearm. Merlin smiled ruefully.

"Is there sensation?" Drake asked.

"Nah, just in the hand. But it sure looks a hell of a lot nicer!" Merlin pulled her sleeve back down.

"Wait, when did you get them? Daishi was still wearing the old ones a fortnight ago," Drake said.

Merlin barked up a cynical laugh. Awo gave her a sideways look before answering the question, "Six weeks ago. They were distributed to all willing MEC troopers, active or discharged. And Daishi didn't want the new augments. Says the old ones remind her of what she's been through. I can respect that."

Merlin snorted in contempt. "Marketing's all she's interested in."

The shotgun sisters' eyebrows rose in unison. "Holy shit that's cynical. Doesn't sound like Daishi," Kilroy said.

The smile didn't reach up to Merlin's eyes. "You know me. Can't teach an old bitch new tricks."

"You're full of shit, Merlin." Medve had been standing silently behind her the whole time, massive arms crossed over his chest.

"Ho-ho! It talks!" Merlin exclaimed, followed by cackling laughter. The Captain's eyes stayed cool under his standard issue beanie.

Drake switched the topic. "How're things in the good ol' xeno slaying machine?"

Awo sighed. "Work. A shitload of work. You'd think killing aliens was the hard part."

Merlin's brow furrowed in concern. She looked like she was about to say something, but chose to remain quiet. Kilroy, however, pounced on the issue, "We can see the gray, Awo. Just take some goddamn time off and let the Doorne handle things for a while."

"Negative. Absolutely not. Like I said, there's a lot of work. The Commander can't just leave."

Merlin lip-synced Awo's entire response, complete with hand gestures and a roll of her eyes. It was clearly an issue they had discussed to death.

"Anything new on Renzol?" The gathering fell quiet at Drake's inquiry.

XCOM had stepped down to condition two just three weeks after the destruction of the Alien Temple Ship. The release of personnel had begun, first on rotational leave followed by eventual discharge. Renzol had been the first one to disappear without a word. All that had been left of her was the shattered remains of a mirror in her quarters.

Awo and Medve shook their heads, but Merlin's fidgeting betrayed the truth. Her internal struggle was painted clear over her face. She couldn't take it any longer, and finally cried out in frustration, "Goddammit! Tell them, Awo!"

Awo's mouth was a thin line. Kilroy and Drake exchanged confused looks with Orgun. "You know something, Awo?" Drake asked.

"It's… Classified. Far above your revoked—"

Merlin blew up. "_Classified? _It's Kilroy and Drake and Orgun for fuck's sake! Tell them or I will!"

Awo gave Merlin a brief stare of death. "Fine," he conceded in a strained voice, "but you absolutely can't spread this forward. Got it? I'm looking at you, Kilroy."

The former assault made a zipping motion over her lips.

Awo drew a deep breath. "We keep track of all the discharged MEC troopers. For health reasons. That's as far as it goes. Renzol wanted to leave, and I have no right to snoop into her personal life. However, there was an issue early this week. It required the intervention of the Council on the US judicial system." Awo paused for a moment, leaving the cemetery silent. "There was a police shooting involving an augmented woman."

The three civilians gasped in shock. Awo continued his explanation, "The investigation is frozen for now, pending Renzol's recovery. Last I heard, her condition was critical."

"Well… Well, _fuck_," Kilroy said sullenly. It wasn't the kinds of news she'd been hoping for.

"We have to go see her! What hospital's she in?" Drake demanded.

Awo shook his head. "She's still under arrest."

Kilroy snorted in contempt as anger flared inside her. "Fucking US coppers. Saw their incompetence firsthand with the Bureau."

Merlin and Awo exchanged a look, and the Commander cleared his throat. "One more thing," he said. This time, the silence lasted longer as he struggled to deliver the news: "I got the Council to send me copies of the case files. It looks like a classic case of attempted suicide-by-cop."

"No way! No _fucking_ way!" Kilroy shouted. Drake covered her mouth in shock, and Orgun dropped his head. Kilroy continued to protest, "There's just _no way_ that's true! You're fucking with us! Not like this, not Renzol!"

"She's right. There's no way," Drake agreed meekly. But while she knew Renzol as an indestructible human tank, she also remembered the vulnerable girl who had come back from Frag's last operation. Despite her words, Drake couldn't help but wonder. _In a time of peace, what is there left for those molded by war?_

"Fuck this. I'm going to my old contacts in the Bureau," Kilroy said.

"Kilroy." The brunette fell silent at Awo's sharp call. "You'll do nothing. All of you, just keep your goddamn mouths shut. If the news spreads, the media will have a fucking field day. I'm pulling all the strings I can. You sit tight on your asses, understood?"

Kilroy grit her teeth, but conceded the point with a nod and a "Roger".

"Don't think I've forgotten about you," Awo said without looking at Merlin. Her apologetic smile-and-shrug was closer to mischievous than bashful. Awo addressed Drake and Kilroy, "We should get going. You coming with us? We're parked on the North side."

"Yeah, just give us a minute to pay respects," Kilroy answered.

Awo nodded solemnly. "Alright. We'll wait."

Kilroy and Drake were left at the memorial. Kilroy shook her head. "I can't believe it. What the fuck."

Drake took her sister's hand. "Yeah."

A memorial plaque was bolted into the base of the sculpture. Kilroy and Drake stepped closer. Hypergeek's name decorated the top. Neither could deny he deserved the top spot; after all, he had saved all of mankind with his sacrifice. The number of names on the list below was far too high; the base defense had taken so many unnecessary lives. The two of them eyed through the list. They spotted Cell, Wolfer and Frag, and Kilroy squeezed Drake's hand tighter. Hunterhr, Hawkeye, Ballystix… one by one the ground operatives' names leapt at them from the memorial until finally, they spotted the one that hurt the most.

Still holding hands, the sisters reached out and touched the name engraved into the memorial. Sergeant Lisette "Lockdown" Foogleman. Drake laid her head against Kilroy's shoulder. "I still miss her," she whispered.

"Me too."

The two of them stayed quiet for a while longer, honoring the memories of those who had given their lives so they could live. Kilroy eventually removed her hand from Drake's and produced a grave candle from her jacket. They both kneeled down, and Kilroy held the lid open as Drake lit the candle. She screwed the top back on and placed the candle next to Awo's. The entire statue would be covered in memorial candles before nightfall but for now, only two flames flickered in the morning light.

"Vigilo Confido," Kilroy said in a shaking voice.

"Vigilo Confido," Drake concluded. She turned to Kilroy and the two of them embraced, holding on tight. The war may have been over, but the wounds left behind would never fully heal.

Kilroy finally broke the embrace, her eyes glimmering with tears. Her own sorrow was reflected on Drake's tear-streaked face. Kilroy sniffled. "Come on, let's go. Can't keep the brass waiting."

Kilroy slung her arm around Drake's shoulders, and Drake slipped hers around Kilroy's waist. They still had a long day ahead of them.

* * *

The restaurant was bustling with activity. Operatives were clad in dress uniform while those discharged or on leave wore their Sunday best. Dinner was being cleared and people mingled casually at the tables. Orgun had joined the bartender behind the counter as usual. His jacket was open, and the vest barely contained his hanging gut.

He leaned over the counter where Morgan and DSM were sitting. "What's yer scoops, ladies?" he asked jovially.

"You better remember or I'm gonna kick your fat ass!" Morgan joked. The top buttons of her uniform were undone, and her head was buzzing with alcohol.

"Long Island Iced Tea, comin' right up fer 'tis gorgeous feek!" Orgun said with a smarmy smile, making Morgan glow. He turned to DSM, "And fer 'tis lovely lass?"

"Beer," DSM said. She was wearing a stylish trouser suit and her short-cropped black hair was tussled with gel. Piercings decorated her nose and upper lip.

"Oooh, I like it. One beer and a Long Island Iced Tea, comin' right up hi!"

Orgun left to prepare the drinks, and Morgan turned to DSM. "So, when are you coming back?"

The psion frowned at the question. "In two weeks. Bye-bye piercings."

Morgan lifted an eyebrow at the snarky response. "Then why come back?"

DSM's laughter rang hollow, real humor replaced by cold cynicism. "'Cause they won't let me go."

"Why not?" Morgan asked, genuinely perplexed.

DSM's frown deepened at the assault's lack of understanding. She raised a finger and tapped herself in the forehead. The power to manipulate other people's minds was hardly something that XCOM and the Council could let run free. Morgan finally understood and scratched the back of her ear in embarrassment. They continued to wait for their drinks in silence.

Colonel Van Doorn was doing shots with Lieutenant Soylent Green and Captain Medve at a table.

"To xeno fucking!" Van Doorn quoted the XCOM officer's oath.

"To xeno fucking," Soylent and Medve agreed, lifting their glasses and downing the cheap bourbon in one go.

Van Doorn leaned back in his chair and sighed, content. "Aah, that brings me back. You remember, Medve? When we came up with the words?"

The Captain nodded. "Yeah. Just you, me, and Awo."

"And four bottles of this rank piss!" Van Doorn threw his head back and let out a bellowing laugh. His cheeks were flushed and a perpetual smile kept the edges of his eyes and nose wrinkled.

"I recall a few beers as well. And however many packs of these." Medve pulled a cigar from his officer's jacket and rolled it between his fingers.

"Aye, a night to remember. And the op name that night!"

"Vengeful Vengeance," the two officers said in unison before bursting to booming laughter.

It had been before Soylent's time, but her lips were upturned in a smile nonetheless. She had heard the story at least a dozen times, but the genuine good will and charisma of the old man always managed to make her smile.

"It's funny," Van Doorn said in a serious tone, his smile momentarily gone, "I can't remember who served on that op. Always thought I'd remember because of the stupid goddamn name. But I have no idea. I think Cell. Maybe Iku. But it could've been anyone."

Medve stared at the table for a moment before picking up the bottle. He filled their glasses to the brim before speaking, "I know who it was. It was a squad of the best men and women this planet has ever seen."

"I'll drink to that."

The officers downed their liquor in memory of Operation Vengeful Vengeance, and the soldiers who had kept Earth a little safer that night.

Van Doorn slammed his shot glass down. "We're getting slow! Come on Flash, your turn! Not fair if I have all the fun!"

A wistful smile graced Soylent's lips. The day's celebrations had made her reminisce about the past, and no doubt the alcohol played its part in bringing to life old emotions. But drunk or sober, memorial day or not, she could still hear his voice every now and again, whispering in her ear.

"To Hypergeek," she said and picked up the bottle.

"Aah, the old favorite!" Van Doorn boomed and slammed a hand to his thigh.

"Miss that smug son of a bitch," Medve said. "Whiskey and Cigars was never the same after."

"He was the one who invited me, back when I was still new to the outfit."

Soylent was done pouring the drinks, and the officers toasted.

"To Hypergeek."

"We shall never see his like again."

Instinct and Volatile had both stayed to serve in XCOM. They shared drinks with Kilroy at a table. The former hot shot secret agent was dressed in a saucy short black piece, complimented by striking red lipstick and dark eyeliner.

"What about Kamikaze and Squint?" Instinct asked.

Volatile glanced his way. "Squint's due this week."

The muscled assault leaned back in his chair. "Right, right. Thought it was a month still."

Kilroy finished her glass of red wine and laughed. "No way man. You know exactly the night they put that bun in the oven! Bet my ass it's just the first of many shitslingers to pop worldwide."

Instinct smiled. "Hope they bring that little rascal to the anniversary."

Kilroy crossed her legs. "Don't really like kids. But anything outta Squint has to be cute enough to eat. What about Pete?"

Volatile put down her pint with a clack. "She moved shop to Amsterdam. Said the rush is too much right now. She'll make it to the next one."

"Why'd she leave? I thought Veere was her hometown," Instinct asked.

Volatile smiled as she recalled the phone call with her former roommate. "Apparently her shop drew too much attention. Every politician and celebrity from the Netherlands to France wants to have their cars fixed by a war hero. One with drills and tools for arms no less. So she moved to keep Veere small and quiet."

Kilroy had closed out the conversation. She was leaning back in her chair and silently observing the sight over her shoulder. Scuba was into his usual act of _El Zorroism_; the table full of new XCOM recruits was laughing along with one of his exaggerated war stories. The sleeves of his dress shirt had been rolled back and the top buttons were open to reveal a muscular chest; the ridge of a scar ran across where a chryssalid had cut him open. A loose tie completed the casual look that was way too stylish to have been accidental. Kilroy noted indignantly that the table consisted mostly of female operatives. She brought the wine glass to her lips only to find it empty.

The glass slammed on the table, stem almost snapping. Kilroy rose to her feet. "Sorry guys, but I need something stiffer. See ya!"

Instinct and Volatile bid her farewell and Kilroy rounded the table. She kept her back straight and stiletto-heeled walk sharp as she crossed to the bar. Her eyes were fixed firmly on her destination, but she could hear a slight pause in Scuba's voice from across the room. A smug smile spread on her lips. She spotted the back of a daring scarlet dress and slid onto the next stool.

Stoli's luscious lips turned to a smile questionable in sincerity. "Kilroy! How wonderful to see you!"

"Hey, slut," Kilroy greeted and gestured at the bartender.

Stoli laughed whole-heartedly. "Brash as always. What do you want, Kilroy?"

Kilroy downed the shot that appeared in front of her in one go. She gave herself a shake that started from her ass and finished at the tip of her nose before addressing Stoli, "You know, we're not so different. You and I."

Stoli raised an eyebrow. "Please," she said in a voice filled with poorly masked contempt.

"Yeah, okay, whatever. But I've saved your big ass countless times, and you did the same for me. I like to think there's at least some mutual respect here."

Stoli's eyebrow stayed up, but her smirk turned curious. "True enough. So… what you want?"

Kilroy was ready to respond in jest, but something made her stop. Maybe she had searched out Stoli on purpose, unbeknownst to herself. She sighed and rubbed her forehead in exasperation. "What I want… I doubt you can help with."

"Shoot. I might surprise you."

"It's Scuba."

A smug smile spread on Stoli's lips, and she stifled a laugh.

"You knew?"

"Oh please, Kilroy. Everyone knows."

"Fuck off." Kilroy started to leave, but Stoli grabbed her arm.

"I'm sorry. Didn't mean it like that." Stoli gestured at the bartender. Orgun began making his way towards them, but she shooed him away angrily. "Come on. Drink with me."

Kilroy gave the blonde a wary look before settling back down.

Stoli gave their order to the bartender before turning back to Kilroy. "Let me tell you something," she said, "I've had a lot of men."

"What a surprise."

"You gonna cooperate or not?"

Kilroy rolled her eyes, but stayed quiet.

"Lots of men… all colors and sizes and personalities. Men like him," Stoli nodded towards Scuba, "are rare. One in ten thousand. The odds of catching one? One in a million. Yet you managed it anyway. God knows how."

"Hey!" Kilroy's jaw dropped at the sudden jab.

Stoli threw her head back and laughed. Two shots appeared before them, and she pushed one of them to Kilroy. The former assault's expression was still somewhat wary as she toasted with Stoli.

Stoli placed her glass down with a grimace. "Damn that's good. Now where was I?" She turned around, sizing Scuba up. Her voice was soft when she continued, "If you think that show he's giving those green girls means anything, then you really are an idiot. I've seen the way he looks at you." Stoli turned to Kilroy, and blue eyes locked on brown. "Catching a man like him is one thing. Making him fall in love with you… you'd be crazy to let that go."

Kilroy looked away and gave her shot glass an absent-minded spin. "Fuck," she finally muttered and slid off her stool. In sharp strides, she made her way over to Scuba. The Latino's story was cut short as Kilroy grabbed him by the tie.

"With me."

She gave him a firm yank, leading _El Zorro _away on a tight leash.

"Sorry _pendejos y pendejas_, I'll finish it another time!" Scuba shouted in-between excited laughter. "Spoiler: _El Zorro _won!"

Merlin's story fell on deaf ears as Drake watched Kilroy drag Scuba out the door. She turned to the bar and Stoli lifted her wine glass. Drake grinned and touched two fingers to her temple.

"What? What is it?" Merlin asked, annoyed at the obvious lack of focus.

"Remind me to get Stoli a box of chocolate for Christmas."

"What?" Merlin asked, utterly perplexed.

Drake laughed and scratched under her eyepatch. "Expensive one too!" Her laughter cut short as she realized the time. "Crap! They're gonna miss the show!"

Merlin pounced on the changed topic, "Oh, the pretentious farce is about to begin?"

Drake scowled at her friend. "Shut up. I've seen your Spotify history."

Merlin rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips. She couldn't deny the truth. It didn't take long until the lights were dimmed and the big screen on the wall lit up.

"Quiet! It's starting!" Van Doorn boomed over the drunken crowd. Everyone settled down, and not a peep broke the anticipating silence.

The TV showed a dark stage. The audience was a welling ocean of sporadic whistles, cheers, and flashes. A piano pierced the veil, its clear tones going around in a minor loop. The audience roared, and a single spotlight fell on stage.

An emerald green dress sparkled in the light. A wide belt separated the strapless bodice and the free-flowing hemline. Grey metal hands grasped the microphone. Daishi opened her eyes.

The augmented singer had become a worldwide hit with her first single _Become._ The song was about her augmentation, and the lyrics spoke of pain and sacrifice. Daishi had poured all of her heart into her music; it was the only way she could survive.

The world had united behind Daishi. People had needed a hero to follow after the horrors of the war, and they had found her. Adoring fans flocked to her concerts all around the world. Her first album, _Salvation,_ had been released in the summer; it had smashed records, selling ten million copies worldwide within a week. She had even performed in full MEC armor at Madison Square Garden during her debut album's tour. The audience had wept as they had witnessed the entirety of the truth behind their idol's sacrifice.

The pace of the song picked up as guitars and drums joined the piano. Daishi's voice reached high into the heavens, welling with emotion. DSM turned back to the counter and took a sip of her beer. Iku noticed.

"Have you seen her recently?" the sniper whispered. DSM shook her head. Iku's face betrayed his surprise. "Why not? I thought you were best friends."

"We were never really that close," DSM whispered. A rueful smile had settled on her lips, and she followed the rest of the performance in silence, the psionic music inside her resonating to Daishi's voice.

"_Stabbing pain for the feelings_

_These wounds of mine are never healing _

_I'm turning numb, oh it's begun… _

_What have I become…"_

The music died, and only the piano remained. Daishi's voice began slowly building up, repeating the last words, over and over. The audience listened intently. Daishi's metal arms flashed under the lights, and her eyes closed as the emotions took over. The phantom pain disappeared and her voice soared ever higher, flying free past the clouds and reaching far beyond the stars.

Daishi would reach the apex soon, and the song would approach its inevitable end. But for the moment, XCOM and the world listened. The war was over, but their sacrifices were worth remembering.

* * *

Author's note: With the Epilogue, Alive and Impossible is finally finished. However, simultaneously with the Epilogue, I released the first chapter of a new story titled _Broken_. If you're interested to find out what happened to Renzol after the war, head on over to my profile and check it out. The story will be relatively short, bringing closure to a character who many (myself included) view as the protagonist of A&amp;I.

I would like to thank all of you for sticking with me throughout this project. What started out as a random Youtube comment turned out to be a story of pretty epic proportions with over 260k words! I would like to thank Beagle for his reviews of the early chapters and the shout outs during Live and Impossible (which is where 99.99999999% of my readers came from; I think it's safe to say I might have given up if I'd had three readers instead of thousands). I was just starting out, and the writing was not deserving of all the praise he (and many others) gave me. However, that praise was exactly what I needed to get my confidence up: criticism (even constructive) could've been devastating to me as a writer back then. What I needed was encouragement, and that I got in spades. The improvements came with time.

With that said, the biggest thank you has to go to my beta, Dan. Both my writing, the structure of the storytelling, military slang/authenticity (as expected from a former infantryman) and pretty much everything in A&amp;I improved massively after he offered to come on board. Thanks man!

A word on canon: The world of A&amp;I is my own version, my vision of how XCOM:EU ended. I have finished XCOM2 and intentionally left out spoilers when it comes to that timeline's canon. The aliens who looked to conquer Earth and destroy mankind were defeated, Hypergeek sacrificed himself (no, the Volunteer doesn't teleport out at the last moment in my world. WTF Solomon, that's just dumb) and as far as I'm concerned, Earth is saved. And if Beagle ever finishes Live and Impossible, well… just consider this an alternate ending to that story.

Once again, thank you to everyone for following, favoriting, reviewing, or just reading!

-Vesmo


End file.
